


A Feast For Crooks

by jonerysbitch



Series: War Of The Five Families [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Early 20th century AU, Multi, Smuggler! Dany, prohibiton era inspired, some illegal shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-05-27 13:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 80,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonerysbitch/pseuds/jonerysbitch
Summary: Lannister, Baratheon, Stark, Martell, Greyjoy, Targaryen... Just spokes on a wheel. This time, with all the blood and gore a proper mob war can bring. Young people thrust upon the responsibility of attempting to salvage an old way of life, while the times and tides keep changing. People fallling in love at the wrong time, with the wrong people. And secrets, secrets everywhere.In a world where bying alcohol is forbidden, watch a bar depending on it waiting for their smuggler,families torn apart by money and corruption, all followed by oh too much violence.





	1. How To Plan A Funeral

Jaime Lannister finished cleaning the counter of the bar he owned. Everything here was done manual, with a lot of love and respect for tradition. Who’s he actually shitting? This was an illegal spot, with actual liquor in the middle of times when even having a bottle of wine was forbidden. Their bar was actually designed to be a restaurant upstairs, and a sin hole downstairs. The upper floors consisted of a high-end restaurant, with a thick, red carpet covering the floors, round tables with white tablecloths, fancy chairs, old fashioned green lamps and a lot of plants.

On the other hand, downstairs was a basement which was transformed into a bar. With black and white chess board floors, a giant bar and a small stage, with a few tables, it was the ideal spot for drinking in these times. Jaime was waiting for a call from their booze smuggler to fill up their stockpile since they had a party last night and were running short. Oberyn Martell, one of the three owners walked in carrying a box of light bulbs.

-Lannister, will you be here around lunch?-

-What? Haven’t you heard? Old man Arryn is dead. We have a funeral to attend.-

-Shit. I had no idea. How old was he?-

-60-ish think?-

-Didn’t he have a wife?-

-Yes, Lysa Tully. They have a 12 year old boy together.-

-Poor kid.-

Jaime threw the rag into a bucket.

-Is our booze here?-

-It is here. But we need help. Jon and Gendry aren’t enough. Robert is trying to convince Gendry to take up the family business and Jon, is well, Jon.-

-I trust those boys with my life, Oberyn. Where can we find help that secure and trustworthy?-

-We’ll talk later. Get Bronn and Tyrion and let’s go.-

-It’s not like he’s going anywhere.-

The group arrived at the mansion that the late Jon Arryn owned. It was a large estate, with a high wall around it and tall, iron gates. The house itself had an eerie, Victorian touch to it, it was all white, four-stories high. It was surrounded by some pine trees, but it was only giving it a creepier touch. The large door was opened by a butler, and they were escorted to the room with the half-open casket. Jon Arryn was dressed in his finest suit, eyes closed peacefully. He was surrounded by wreaths of lily of the valley and notes from his friends and family. The strange company of men walked over to the drawing room where the weeping widow was. Clad in black lace and pearls, Lysa Arryn looked stone cold. Next to her was her son, a sickly 12-year old. She was quietly discussing something with Catelyn Stark, her sister. Catelyn’s husband, Eddard, was seated with Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister. Cersei Lannister was talking with Doran Martell on the other end of the room, while Aerys Targaryen was quietly talking with his wife Rhaella. Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell where there too, along with Rhaegar’s younger brother, who looked very hungover. Robb Stark was there too, with his half-brother, Jon “Snow” Stark. Lyanna Stark, their aunt was with them, they all looked much worn out. The silence in the room felt like a heavy layer of snow. They all paid their condolences to the widow and little boy and quietly withdrew to the corner.

There was another sound of the door creaking and Mace Tyrell came in, followed by his daughter and eldest son, along with his old mother. The Queen of Thorns walked over, supported by her cane and took a seat among the business men. They were followed by Petyr Baelish, who kept apologizing for being late. Other relatives and friends started to pour in, the room was crowded now. Jon Snow walked over to his employers and whispered to Oberyn.

-I think we might have a problem.-

-What problem?-

-I overheard Robert telling my father that Stannis is running an investigation on some illegal trade.-

-Don’t worry, kid. Our dealer is uncatchable.-

-You think so? I’m feeling nervous about the fact that Stannis is sniffing around.-

-Stannis cannot see beyond his hubris. It will eventually ruin him.-

-You sure?-

-Yes. Go and wash your face, kid. You’re as pale as a ghost.-

Jon nodded and walked upstairs, searching for a bathroom. When he finally reached a door he thought could be a bathroom, he touched the handle in order to open it, but then he heard strange noises. He creaked the door open, only to discover Lysa Arryn chewing Littlefinger’s face. She was on top of him, her skirts were up. Jon turned around and ran for his damn life. He wanted to gauge his eyes out. He walked downstairs and chugged down three cups of tea.

Then, it was time to bury the casket. The priest performed the traditional ceremony, while the crowd stood there quietly. His widow as cold as the winter that was finally passing, their boy yelling he wants to go home… And Jon Snow on the verge of throwing up.

Later that evening, Jon ad Gendry were preparing the bar for the evening. Chairs were being arranged, instruments were being brought in, and only the alcohol was missing.

-Gendry?-

-Yes?-

-I think I saw Littlefinger fuck Lysa Arryn today.-

-What?-

Then they heard footsteps. Jaime Lannister came in, dapper in his dark burgundy suit with black stripes and a black tie, carrying a pile of boxes.

-C’mon, lads! Oberyn and Bronn are running late! Go to the back door and get the booze!-

They nodded and walked to the back door. This was their first time bringing the alcohol in, instead of waiting for the bosses to bring it. Jaime was behind them and he tapped them on the shoulder. There were three, burly giants in black coats, all serious looking, with moustaches and braids. Among them, there was a pretty small figure, which was obviously female. She approached them and shook hands with Jaime. Dressed in a black coat and a pillow hat, she wore red lipstick. Her eyes were a shiny, almost glossy purple colour and her hair was silvery-white.

-Mr Lannister. Always a pleasure to work with.-

-Please, we are beyond that. How are you, darling?-

-Better than what you are wearing.-

-My sister said I looked good!-

-Well, she lied to you.-

Jaime rolled his eyes and laughed.

-Are you staying for the party?-

-I didn’t know that there would be a party? Considering everything that happened today.-

-Arryn is dead. It’s not like he has to say something now?-

-You are a soulless creature. But, I’m staying.-

-Won’t your old man give you trouble?-

-He won’t even notice I’m gone.-

-Then come in. Lads, be gentlemen and help the lady.-

Jon walked over to the woman, almost reluctant, but it was as if he was drawn to her. She smiled at him briefly before taking Jaime’s arm and walking down stairs. Jon helped her take of her coat, only to reveal a simple, black dress, without a back. She took off her hat and placed it into the storage department.

-I’m Daenerys.-

-I’m Jon.-

-You’re Aerys’ daughter, right?-

-Yes.-

-And you have been our dealer the entire time.-

-Something like that.-

She gave him a glossy smile and walked over to the bar, taking a seat. Jon followed and walked behind, to take up his position. Daenerys was seated just across him, eyeing the empty stage.

-Do you want something to drink?-

-Yes.-

-A glass of wine for the lady.-

-I need something stronger.-

-All right, Dragon Lady.-

-Oberyn told you my street name, didn’t he?-

-It is very badass.-

Jon would lie to himself if he’d say he didn’t find Daenerys attractive. Yes, she was indeed, very, very attractive, but very, very unattainable, as she was the daughter of Aerys Targaryen, one of the richest men around, she comes with a pedigree and from old money, plus she’s very beautiful and he’s the illegitimate son of Eddard Stark, and that’s what his entire life will ever be. Nothing set to inherit, except maybe this bar. And the sense of honour and dignity the Starks have. And absolutely nothing of his maternal family, whoever they were.

-Was it bad today?-

-Where?-

-At the funeral, Jon Snow.-

-Ah, the funeral. It was… Lovely.-

She nodded, sipping a little of the martini he made her. She inhaled deeply. The alcohol prohibition ruined so many business, but hers was blooming. She sold it to various bars, all imported abroad secretly. That’s what happens when your father puts his entire trust into her disinterested brothers. Rhaegar, who dreamt about becoming a writer and Viserys, a drunk party boy that never cared about anything but himself, and then her, a girl wanting to fight for their family business? The judgement was out, she was there to smile and look pretty. Rhaella, her mother, made sure Daenerys was aware of that. But she was never willing to let that happen. And there she was, a smuggler, sitting with a bartender and getting lost in his dark, starry eyes. Stupidly handsome Jon Snow was there, making her swoon with the clumsy smiles he was giving her. Their attention shifted to Jaime Lannister, who got upon the stage to hold a small and short speech about tonight’s entertainment, and proceeded to talk further about the plans for the bar.

-Please, enjoy yourselves. But not too much.-

The place was full. Jon’s half-brother, Robb, was there with some friends of his, then Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon, whose elder brothers were a mogul and a police officer. Actually, the police commissioner but that didn’t matter. The band was loud, people were dancing, but Jon wasn’t as bored as usual. He had Daenerys to keep him company.

-Does your father know you’re here?-

-Does YOUR father know you’re here?-

-Good point, Dany.-

-Ned Stark would chop off your head if he found out you were helping a spoiled rich boy, a womaniser and Bronn running an illegal bar with booze at this time.-

-If my stepmother hadn’t done it by now, no one will.-

-Everyone can die at any time, Jon Snow.-

-You think so?-

-Yes.-

If Jon had the balls and not the inhibiting honour of the Starks, he’d kiss her. Just so he can say he kissed a pretty girl in a bar one night. Daenerys was enchanted by him, but she couldn’t yet allow him to see it. Not yet. It was too soon. Her eyes moved to the entrance, and Littlefinger came in, waving at Jaime. The men greeted each other, and Jon started feeling sick, remembering the events from this morning.

-Jon? You look pale?-

-I’m always pale, Dany.-

-Listen… It’s getting late. I-I have to go now, to bed.-

-You do look very sleepy.-

-Goodnight, Jon Snow.-

She left, along with her burly bodyguards. But the show must go on! People were getting drunk, dancing, laughing and some even throwing up. Dawn came, and with her, guests started leaving. The bar made a lot tonight, so Jaime sent him and Gendry earlier. Jon said goodbye to his employers and then to Gendry, who was supposed to go directly home.

People agreed that Gendry, unlike his siblings, was a spitting image of his father Robert in his youth, before he grew a belly and beard. He had three younger siblings, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen and they all looked like his mother’s side of the family, the Lannisters. Jaime was his uncle, after all. Their parents’ relationship was… Complex, to say at least. They were distant, his father was a cheater… But they managed somehow for their 4 children. Gendry walked in by the back door, greeting Martha, their maid, he slowly took off his shoes and attempted quietly to walk upstairs of their ginormous family home. He took off his jacket which smelled of cigarettes and booze and threw it over his bedpost. Gendry’s room was spacious, with tall windows and doors, decorated gaudy and baroque, like the rest of the house. He was ready to take off his shirt when he heard little footsteps. Tommen was at his door, still in his pyjamas, clutching Sir Pounce, their cat.

-Gendry? Are you leaving?-

-No, no! Go back to bed, Tommy.-

-I woke up because I’m hungry.-

-Then let’s go downstairs and have breakfast, then.-

Gendry picked his little brother gently up and walked downstairs.

On the other hand, the Stark estate was much more distant then the Baratheon one. Jon was slowly pacing down the empty streets, unfortunately with Petyr Baelish. The man was talking about his business plans, but Jon couldn’t force himself to listen. He waved him off goodbye and crossed the bridge to the family estate, which consisted of a large, family home where his father and stepmother lived, along with their 5 children.

Then there were stables and a smaller, extended building where Jon and his Aunt Lyanna lived. Jon creaked the door open, only to spot Lyanna awake, reading something by the fire.

-Good morning, Aunt Lyanna.-

-Hi Jon. How are you, love?-

-A bit tired but otherwise fine.-

She nodded and Jon went to bed immediately. On the other part of town, in the Arryn estate, Lysa Arryn was laughing with her new lover.

-He ate it all up! The entire poison! And now he’s dead and I’m the sole bearer of the Arryn estate until Robyn is 25!-

-That’s wonderful, love.-

It was him, all along, who planted the idea of poisoning Jon Arryn. Lysa, who despised her elderly husband gladly obliged and now the Old Falcon was gone. What else was to happen, can only time tell.


	2. The Wolf And The Rose

The estate of the Starks was anchors and anchors of land, located at the edge of the town. The paterfamilias, Ned Stark, was a very wealthy man, coming from old money, but he was able to make their business bloom and stay stable through the years. He married Catelyn “Cat” Tully, and had five children with her. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Brandon and Rickon. The family estate had a large villa, where the core family resided. There was an extended building where his sister Lyanna and illegitimate son, Jon, lived. His eldest brother Brandon had died in a car crash and his youngest brother, Benjen, was serving in the military.

Ned had a simple routine. He’d get up early, work in the office, have breakfast with his family and then go to meet up with potential partners and investors, come back home, have lunch with Cat then take a rest in the afternoon before going to work a little, and then he’d either have dinner with his family or go out. His family was also picture perfect. Cat was the best wife he’d ever want and the best mother for his children. Robb, the eldest, was a beacon of hope and strength for the Stark family. Sansa was a sweet and prim and proper lady, while Arya was a bit of a tomboy. The boys were still little, Bran being a bookworm and Rickon still very playful and happy, go-lucky.

Today, he took a break from his regular routine to share some tea with his sister. Lyanna Stark had a magical power, and that power was never aging. She looked as if she was still in her early 20s, her visage still radiating with youth and beauty. Sipping from porcelain white cups with tiny blue and golden roses, the siblings discussed Ned’s only child not born to Cat, Jon. The young man was still asleep, tired from his work.

-I just don’t understand why he took the night shift.-

-It’s his choice, Ned. We cannot influence him on every little thing, he needs to make his own decisions.-

-You’re right as always, Lya. Tell, is he eating good? Did he mention anything about going back college? He should know I’m willing to pay for it. He deserves the best.-

Lyanna sipped the tea, staring at the pale berry stain her lips left on the rim.

-Then why do you let Catelyn treat him as if he’s a ghost? He’s your blood, Ned.-

-It’s the best thing I can do for him, as for now.-

-Ned Stark, trying to be honourable even in a not so honourable situation. –

Jon came down stairs, yawning. He looked very sleepy, his hair was ridiculously fluffy and he dragged himself to give his aunt a kiss on the cheek and to greet his father.

-Good morning Father, how are you?-

-Very well Jon, you?-

-A bit tired.-

In front of the family home, a car pulled in, and Margaery Tyrell got out of it. Dressed in an ankle length, light green dress with buttons and a matching hat with orchids, Margaery waited for Rory, the family butler, to open the door for her. She looked up to spot her best childhood friend, Sansa Stark, stand on top of the stairs. Dressed in a lilac dress, Sansa wanted to look the best today, for her friend. Margaery squealed when she saw her and jumped up, throwing her purse on the ground. They hugged, both giggling and laughing.

-Sansa, my heart! I haven’t seen you in months!-

-I’ve missed you too, Marge.-

Sansa grabbed Margaery’s hand and they run upstairs, greeted Catelyn, then went straight to Sansa’s room. The spacious and brightly lit abode was perfect for them to spend some time together. They caught up with each other, about their plans, lives and the current gossip. The two girls have been best friends for years. They’ve been there for each other ever since childhood and now are there, at the brink of adulthood. There were there for each other since forever. And they were in love.

Sansa softly kissed her lady love, melting their lips together. Margaery smiled against her lips, while slowly unbuttoning Sansa’s dress. Sansa shook it off her shoulders and deepened the kiss. Margaery undid her own and Sansa took it off. Sansa unhooked Margaery’s bra and started kissing her neck, leaving a small trace to her collarbone, before going down and sucking on her breast. Margaery exhaled.

-This is very therapeutic.-

Sansa smiled and continued to go down, leaving kisses down Margaery’s belly. She placed her hands at each side of Margaery’s hips, and she parted her legs, throwing them over Sansa’s shoulders. Sansa started to slowly take of Margaery’s underwear, but then they heard footsteps. The two girls jumped up immediately, pulling each other’s clothes quickly on. Catelyn Stark creaked the door open, to find Sansa sitting on the chair and Margaery on the window bench. 

-Girls, sorry for bothering you, but Sansa, I’m here to remind you we’re hosting the Greyjoy’s here tonight. So do get ready, they will be here at 8 sharp.-

-Yes, Mamma. No problem. Is it alright for Margaery and me to go out tomorrow for shopping?-

-Of course. As always.-

Sansa smiled and nodded. Catelyn was holding something, it looked like a dress. She walked in and placed it on Sansa’s closet and walked out. It was baby blue, with long, billowy sleeves and a high neckline, with lace details. It was very modest, per tradition, but Sansa liked it.

-Oh, a new dress. – Smiled Margaery.

-How about I take this one off?-

Sansa unhooked her dress and Margaery licked her lips. They had a lot of time until 8.

On the other side of the house, in the kitchens, Jon was eating an omelette that Old Nan had prepared for him. He drank the warm, jasmine tea and inhaled the fresh air that was coming through the window.

-Jon!-

-Hello there, Arya! Come here!-

He patted the spot next to him and Arya jumped next to him, giving him a squeeze. He pushed the plate toward her and she took a bite, but picked the savoury pastries that Nan left for Jon. With a full mouth, she began her story.

-And then Uncle Robert said he’s a dumb whoremonger, whatever that means.-

-Arya! Don’t let your mother hear you speaking like that.-

-I know what a whoremonger is. – Said Arya with a death glare.

Jon started laughing, he couldn’t keep himself from dying of laughter from Arya’s serious expression. For a 15-year-old, she sure as hell was stone cold.

-And what’s up with you?-

-Me? Nothing, Arya, I’m just over-worked.-

-You look dazed.-

-Bloody hell!-

-So what happened?-

He thought he looked just upset because of Lysa and Littlefinger. The truth was that a pair of violet eyes crawled in his head.

-Difficult night at work, that’s all.-

-If you say so.-

They heard footsteps and turned around, to see Robb walk over and grab another one of those pastries.

-Good morning, you two. How are we?-

-How are you? You look like shit.-

-Language, Arya. And thank you.-

Robb took a seat across his siblings and some of Jon’s tea. Unsatisfied, he got up and put some hot water for himself.

-Arya, want some tea?-

-No, no! Is there any lemonade?-

He peeked in the fridge.

-Yes.-

-Lemonade it is.-

He gave his little sister a glass and they continued talking.

-I can’t believe old man Arryn is dead.-

-He was very old.-

-Arya!-

Jon laughed into his tea and ruffed Arya’s hair. Robb slouched over in the chair and inhaled deeply.

-The Greyjoy’s are coming tonight.-

-Oh god.-

In a bedroom in the main house, Sansa was giggling as Margaery licked her folds. Sansa bit her lip and leaned on back into the poufy pillows. Her cheeks turned the colour of wine as Margaery continued to kiss her down there. Then she crawled back into Sansa’s arms, giving her a kiss.

-Marg?-

-Yes?-

-I love you more than anything.-

-I love you too, darling.-

They laid there, just relaxing, for hours.

-Oh, it’s 6 already.-

-Better get going. You need to get ready for dinner with the krakens.-

-Old man Balon does look like one. –

-Tomorrow, we’re going shopping. By shopping, I mean we’re going to have sex and smoke. Loras got me a good pack.-

-That brother of yours is a goldmine.-

-I know!-

Sansa pulled on her dress and walked Margaery outside. She waved her girlfriend off and proceeded to change into her dress, adding some sapphire earrings.

Downstairs in the bar, Tyrion was calculating how much both the restaurant and the bar made when he heard a knock. He looked up and spotted that little prick Ramsay Bolton looking at him with a devilish grin. He rolled his eyes and asked him to come in.

-What do you want, Bolton?-

-To offer a nice little deal, Lannister. A gig. My man can get you the cheapest booze around here. All high quality.-

-We already have a dealer, thanks.-

-It’s not like you can refuse some offers, Imp.-

-Will you fuck off?-

-No, not really. Listen, Lannister, if you had half the brain they claim you have, you’d accept the deal.-

-As I said, fuck off.-

-Very well.-

Bolton put his hat back on and left. He bumped into Jaime Lannister on his way out.

-Tyrion?-

-The fucker is just bothering us. I told him to go to hell.-

-Oh, good job.-

-Thank you. Now, sit down here, we need to go over everything…-

Dinner was very quiet. Balon and Ned discussed coal trade, while everyone else just sat and ate. Theon Greyjoy was awfully quiet, seated between his mother Alanis and his father. Yara, his elder sister, was absent.

Robb sensed something was off? Were they ashamed of the rumours circling around Euron Greyjoy? Or was it all just the awful atmosphere?

After dinner, the families moved over to the drawing room, where cake was served. Sansa was sitting next to her own mother, who kept playing with Sansa’s sleeve.

-Now, Ned, there is a thing my son Theon would like to say. As you know, we talked business, but now it’s time to talk family. Because that is all we got. –

Theon gave them a weak smile, and fumbled in his pocket, finding something and then clutching it.

-Mr Stark, I came here tonight to ask you for the hand of your daughter Sansa. It would be a great honour to have you as my father-in-law and Sansa as my wife. – Declared Theon with a solemn, well-practised tone, while pulling out a diamond and emerald ring. Alanis and Cat smiled, while Ned and Sansa looked very uncomfortable.

-This is very, very sudden. Of course, I cannot force my daughter to accept or decline, so I will let Sansa deliberate and then we’ll tell you our answer.-

-Of course, we cannot expect Miss Sansa to immediately give her answer. Thank you, Mr Stark. – Grinned Theon. He looked over to Sansa, shyly, and attempted to give her a smile, only to be met by her shocked expression.

After they left, Ned and Cat retrieved to their bedroom. Dressed in striped pyjamas, and his glasses, followed with his taxes, Ned was in bed, his head full with the events from tonight. Catelyn came to him, in her dark blue night gown.

-What in the world was that?-

-The rumours seem to be true.-

-What rumours?-

-The Greyjoy’s have been, apparently, in some trouble, lately. Rumour has it that Euron is in some shady business. They need a sizeable dowry.-

-Oh, our poor Sansa! What if she wants to marry Theon?-

-I highly doubt it.-

Arya jumped in the window on the second floor of Lyanna and Jon’s house. She opened the door, to see Jon holding up some lace for Lyanna to cut.

-Arya, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?-

-You won’t believe what happened, Aunt Lyanna!-

-What?-

-Theon Greyjoy proposed to Sansa!-

-What?-

Lyanna dropped the scissors and Jon put down the lace.

-Theon Greyjoy to our Sansa?-

-Yes!-

-Good lord? She didn’t accept, didn’t she?-

-Of course not! Robb and I are shocked and appalled!-

Jon crossed his arms. Yes, Sansa was eligible, but why now? She just turned 19. It didn’t make any sense. Something was coming, but he didn’t know what.

In the Targaryen household, Rhaella and Daenerys were watching little Aegon and Rhaenys, who were asleep finally.

-It’s wonderful to have children, I have just forgotten how difficult it is to take care of them.-

-When is Rhaegar coming to pick them up?-

-As soon he picks up Elia. She was visiting her brother.-

Daenerys nodded, looking off into the distance, thinking about that shipment that was supposed to be there tonight.

-Dany, love? Is everything alright?-

-Yes, why?-

In reality, it wasn’t. She had a certain bartender on her mind.


	3. Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there's a bit of a bloody graphic scene at the begging, skip if you feel uncomfortable

Ramsay Bolton took his victim’s head and struck it against the toilet, which broke into a thousand sharp pieces, cutting the man’s arms. Blood poured out his forehead, the crimson coloured liquid covering the pasty white tiles. The man owed Ramsay’s boss money, so of course, the man who had a particular skill set, and by that was meant he flayed people, was sent. The man was crying on the floor, blood pouring out of his forehead, nose and mouth. His pyjamas were stained red, the body in a foetal position. Ramsay kicked him again, with all his strength, the victim screaming. The scene was truly horrific, blood pouring everywhere in the stark white bathroom, broken mirrors and toilets, the house completely raided.

-You have time until tomorrow. Or I’m coming back to finish my business.-

Ramsay left the house, followed by two of his thugs. It was a lovely morning, the air was clear and it was a perfect time for the Monster to take a walk.

* * *

 

On the other side of town, Lyanna Stark was cutting a piece of sea green tulle and measuring it against a customer. Her atelier, The Blue Rose, was a very popular spot for women to dress. Lyanna’s work was very important to her, as she placed a lot in it. Everyone came here to dress, from Cersei Lannister to Lysa Arryn, so this sort off, against Lyanna’s wishes, became a gossip mill. Her niece Sansa and her friend Margaery help her and her employees out, although today was a slow day for some reason. The peaceful environment was interrupted by none other than Cersei Lannister-Baratheon, followed by her daughter, Myrcella.

-Good morning, Mrs Baratheon, how can I help you?-

-Oh, Miss Stark! Please, Myrcella and I need dresses for an upcoming family event.-

Lyanna nodded, pulling out her notebook and a measuring tape. Upstairs, on the galleries, were Sansa and Margaery, looking at the matriarch and her daughter.

-Look what the cat dragged in.-

-I can feel the venom radiating off of her.-

-Girls, please do come down and help me!-

There was a lot of unspoken coldness between Lyanna and Cersei. Cersei’s husband, Robert, harboured an obsession with best friend’s sister. Rumour had it that Robert even proposed to Lyanna, but she rejected him, as she was disinterested in him. Lyanna found Robert crude and loud, she disliked his demeanour and habit of spending lavishly, taking things to the extreme. Robert was, and will always be, everything Lyanna despises in men. Ever since she rejected him, they had an icy relationship, mostly filled with her silence and his longing looks. Cersei, on the other hand, was his wife, arranged by his business partner and her father, Tywin Lannister. With a large dowry and a big wedding, the union was celebrated with four children. Gendry, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. Lyanna didn’t know the details of their marriage, but how on Earth can anyone be happy with Robert Baratheon?

Lyanna got up, writing down everything.

-Please, pick your fabrics and tell me what kind of style you two want and then come back in two weeks to try them on.-

Cersei nodded and took her daughter so they can roam the store.

-I can’t actually believe the Greyjoy’s have the balls to propose to Sansa. What is wrong with them?-

-Me too, Aunt Lyanna. This is all just a big mess.-

-I feel like Theon Greyjoy has no balls. – Said Margaery, propped up by the counter.

Cersei and Myrcella came back, happy with their picks and left. Sansa and Margaery waved off Lyanna too, and went to the Tyrell estate. Margaery’s parents and Willas, her eldest brother were almost always absent or working, so Sansa and Margaery retrieved to the lake house, which was a small house by the lake build years ago. It wasn’t that small, in had a few bedrooms and bathrooms, a spacious kitchen and lovely balcony, but this is where the Tyrell children threw their best parties. Right now, Sansa and Margaery were lying in bed, just in their underwear, smoking. The room they were sleeping in was affectionately called “The Fairy Room” as it was in pinks, greens and blush shades, with a celling that had nymphs painted on it, all carrying roses, dancing, hugging, kissing…

-How come is it alright to show to women kiss on that painting but we cannot kiss in public?-

-Because this was invented for a man’s pleasure. – Said Margaery, pointing at the celling. Sansa puffed out the smoke, nodding.

-Men are bitches. Just coming in and thinking they can propose to me!-

-I’d scalp Theon Greyjoy if he attempted to do anything with you.- Sansa kissed Margaery’s cheek and they laughed. The door creaked and Loras came in, just in his pants. He walked over to the closet and started digging through it.

-Hi girls.-

-Oh, hi there Loras? What are you doing?-

-I’m searching for a shirt… A white and crisp one, I just took a shower. Dad is forcing me and Willas to visit some factories with him. Garland and Mum are home, if you care.- Loras opened another closet and started going through it again. Loras, of course, was aware of their relationship. Sansa considered Loras family, as he did her.

-Can I borrow a cigarette?-

-Sure!-

-Don’t give him any Sansa, Renly has left three packs.-

-You little shit!- He threw a lace camisole at Margaery and the two girls laughed.

-Loras, do open the window, please.-

-Anything for you, Queen Margaery.- The fresh air soothed the smoky room. It felt nice.

-Are you two going out tonight?-

-Yes, I just have to phone my Mum and tell her I’m sleeping here.-

-So, it will be a wild night, huh?- Loras sat down on the chair next to the body mirror that was across the bed.

-You know, maybe one day, when you two are nice to me, I’ll take you to my favourite bar.-

-Bar? Aren’t those illegal now day?-

-Look at little Miss Sunshine… Sansa, honestly, how old are you? There is a good bar downtown, you can get really nicely drunk, have fun, listen to some good music…-

-We’re going then there tonight.-

Loras rolled his eyes.

-No you’re not.-

-I’ll ask Renly.-

-Shit. Get ready, then.-

* * *

 

The foursome went to have dinner first, Sansa and Margaery were sitting across Renly and Loras. The waitress came over to get their order.

-Oh, are the four of you on a double date? How lovely!-

-Yes, we are in fact. – Grinned Renly.

The waitress smiled again. After dinner, the group left for the bar.

-What the fuck are we doing at Jaime Lannister’s restaurant? – Asked Sansa while staring at the lion with a sun crest. Loras rolled his eyes and walked in, tapped a waiter on the shoulder and the man nodded, leading them through a darken hallway to a basement, before opening an almost cartoonish door with a safe lock. After the door opened, a cloud of smoke, sex and alcohol washed over them. The music was very loud, and Sansa clutched Margaery’s hand. The group entered the night bar which was filled to the brim. Sansa was appalled to spot her half-brother serving drinks at the bar. Jon poured some brandy for two men and turned back to Daenerys, who was seated on a bar stool behind the counter. She was sipping on her martini, watching Jon juggle with customers.

-What’s so funny?-

-You pout when you focus. It’s like a girl doing her makeup.-

Jon rolled his eyes. The night was still young and everyone was just arriving. And he was there, in the corner with Daenerys. She helped him even, a little, from time to time. He enjoyed listening to her voice, it washed a sense of calm on him. She told him about her childhood, about her brothers, about her family, about her aging Granduncle Aemon’s pharmacy, about her three cats… she seemed like an average girl, not a stone cold dealer. And Jon just charmed her. He talked how he’s trying to gather money for his studies, so that his father doesn’t have to pay for it, about his aunt and siblings, even about Catelyn Tully, who gave him nothing but icy looks.

-Icy looks, icy eyes, icy demeanour. She’s cold.-

-You do know that you don’t deserve that, right?-

Jon gave her a warm smile before turning to the bar and noticing his own half-sister there. Jon dropped the shaker and him mouth went agape.

-Sansa! What in the seven hells are you doing here?-

-Um… Hi?-

-Robb!-

Robb walked over, with a girl around him, laughing. The moment he saw Sansa he pushed the girl away and threw his glass in the corner.

-Sansa! What the fuck? Do you want me to get Mum?-

-Since you’re both here, it’s not like you can comment on me.-

-You’re younger than us! And a girl! Imagine if something happened to you? Are you here alone?-

-No, with Marge and Renly and Loras. The fuck are you two complaining? Just give me two goddamn glasses of wine and we’ll never speak about this again.-

Robb and Jon wanted to yell at her, but she reminded them of their father so they came to a mutual decision to keep quiet.

-So those are your siblings?-

-I have three more.-

-A full house, huh?-

-Something like that. Do you want some wine?-

-Sure, thanks.-

They bonded over a glass of wine and some funny childhood stories. Jon felt like he knew Daenerys for years, as if she’d been his friend since forever. The party was almost over, everyone was staring to leave, but she stayed and pretended to discuss some business with the three owners, especially Oberyn, her brother-in-law. When it was time to leave, Jon and Dany walked out, together. They talked all the time and Dany, dressed in a thin silky black dress, was shivering. Jon, being Jon, gave her his jacket.

-Won’t you be cold?-

-I’m at least not wearing a little silk dress.-

She looked down, blushing.

-I think we’re getting along very well.-

-Mhm…-

It was dawning. Jon and Dany sat down on a bench in front of a small chapel out of white stone, with a bunch of white flowers planted in front of it. The sun was coming out, waking everyone up.

-Where do you live?-

-Dragonstone. My great-grandfather built it as a family home. It’s that large house out of red stone on the island near the port.-

-That’s not a house, that’s a castle.-

-Well, the Stark’s estate isn’t small either. What do they call it again?-

-Winterfell. I’m terrified of leaving Winterfell. It’s the only home I have ever known.-

-I see…- -My Aunt Lyanna is somewhat the only mother I have ever known. I know nothing of my real mother.-

-Have you ever asked your father?-

-Once. He told me he’d explain everything to me when I’m old enough.-

-You’re 22 now.-

-I have no idea, Dany. I stopped worrying about the past a long time ago.- She squeezed his hand.

Then, a car pulled over and a large, burly man peeked his head through the window.

-Hey, Boss, you’re needed at the port, a shipment is late.-

Dany got up, Jon following suit. She pressed a kiss on his cheek and jumped in, waving at Jon. He waved back at her, with a red stain on his right cheek. Dany smiled back. Seated in the back seat, behind her bodyguard Agho and Jorah Mormont, her secretary, she asked to be briefed on the situation.

-Ma’am, who’s that man?-

-A friend, Jorah.-

* * *

 

Jon was all alone again, so he walked home the short way, through the farmer’s market. The market was already full, and he was surprised to spot his Aunt Lyanna buying apples.

-Good morning, Aunt Lya!-

-Oh, hi Jon! What are you doing here?-

Lyanna analysed Jon’s appearance. He looked worn, tired, but he had a smile on his face. And a red lipstick stain on his cheek.

-So, how was last night?-

-Busy as usual. You should go out there sometimes.-

-Where’s your jacket?-

Jon recalled he left it with Daenerys.

-I…-

Lyanna smiled, walking over to the counter with spices. Two girls worked there, a red-head, dressed in a bright, lime-green dress and one with brown hair in light grey.

-Good morning, Gilly. Can I please get some thyme and oregano?-

-Of course, Miss Stark! Just a minute.- As Gilly was measuring spices, the other girl walked over, chewing a strand of grass.

-Oi Miss Lyanna! Who’s your pet there?-

-Ygritte, this is my nephew, Jon Snow.-

-Why the long face, Snow?- Jon just turned around.

They went to the pharmacy down the street, which was empty early in the morning. The younger man working there was a bit on the larger side, with soft whiskers and a bowl haircut. Dressed in a white coat, he was stuttering all the time as he was searching for the proper medicine. An old man came out, dressed in a similar robe, with fine, silvery hair. He was propped up by a cane. Jon realised he must be half-blind. He had a strange red dragon pin on his left side and he was scolding the assistant.

-Samwell, what did I tell you? Be nice to customers, you’re annoying the young lady.-

-I-I’m very sorry, Master Aemon, this is only my third day.-

-Oh, don’t worry, he is very nice. – Smiled Lyanna.

Aemon nodded and Sam left for the storage room to find something.

-Don’t tell him, but he’s my best student.-

* * *

 

On the other side of town, Stannis Baratheon was handling a crime scene. The victim was hospitalised, as he was beaten to a pulp. Of course, Stannis, a seasoned police officer, was perfectly aware who did it. And yet, he was frustrated as there was no way to prove it. Bolton could carve up a man on the streets in public, and no one could touch him. Stannis, a man unhappy with his entire existence felt like a bug compared to Bolton. There was nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. Frustrated, he told the officers to take samples and leave, as there was nothing he could do. For now.


	4. This Is Getting Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Lyanna Stark is played by none other than Aisling Franciosi, so keep in mind while reading this.

Robb Stark was phoning his father across the city about some deals from a while ago. There was something off about the numbers and Robb rummaged through the dark oak office to find the missing paperwork. He put the phone down and ruffled his hair. On the couch next to the desk, his latest conquest was smoking in her lacy, red underwear. Robb scrunched his nose at the chimney-scented smoke and got up and opened the window. The forest green long curtains already had the nasty scent of smoke. Jeyne Westerling stretched like the wretched cat she was and slouched in the dark brown leather couch. Robb rolled his eyes. What in the world was he thinking? Jeyne fucking Westerling? She was nothing special, really. Just a conquest. And not even a special one. She was not a difficult one either. At the end of the day, she was not her. Robb leaned back on the chair, clasping his hands together.

\- Don’t you think it’s time to go?-

\- I’d like to stay. I’d fancy staying in bed with you all day. -

-Jeyne, please. If someone catches us we will be in big trouble. -

Jeyne’s chocolate eyes turned watery. Robb could see the hurt, but he decided to act cold. He cannot make the same mistake again and again. Bridges burn, he never learns. Then he called Jon in, to talk. Jon was Robb’s right hand, his best friend, his only friend for a long, long time. Jon was rather taken with something, so Robb decided it was his turn to listen.

\- What has been eating you, Snow? -

-A girl. I think I have… What do you call it? -

\- A crush? -

-Call it what you want. I can’t get her out of my head. I just can’t. -

\- I feel like I’ve seen a dead man walk. Holy shit. Jon likes a lady. What’s her name? -

\- Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen.- Robb nearly fell of his chair.

* * *

 

In the police station, Stannis Baratheon slammed his phone on the desk. This was the reason he was losing hair. Every single time he tries to make a difference, someone snuffs it out. Always the little fish among sharks. His suspenders were staining his back and he just couldn’t find his jacket, Selyse was bothering him over some money problems and his dumb assistant was missing somewhere. Like he could have shared the money with Robert, but his calling was law, and now the calling is biting him in his arse. How can Bolton always avoid arrest? How? He must have made the grave digging business bloom and yet no one could touch him. Then, a woman barged in his office. She was fairly attractive, with long red hair and matching clothes, a skin-tight dress and a fur coat, with a very expensive looking ruby choker, very elegant looking and rather extravagant. She slammed her hands on his desk.

\- Maybe you will listen to me! - A clerk came in, running after her. He was out of breath.

-Police Commissioner Baratheon! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t stop her! -

-Just let her speak. -

Stannis was intrigued by the Red Woman.-

\- My name is Melisandre. I hold a shop three streets away and thugs keep bothering me. -

\- Sit down, Mrs…? -

-Oh I am a Miss! -

Stannis gestured her to sit down.

* * *

 

Littlefinger was sorting out his paperwork. Bills, bills, some clients who aren’t paying up on time… The brothel business was growing strong. If only he could get some alcohol in the game, everything would be much easier for him. If only the dealer the called Dragon did not exist. If only his prostitutes were bringing in more money. If only his first and only love, Catelyn Tully, now Stark, would look at him. If only… His office door opened and Robert Baratheon walked in, fastening his belt. He looked like a rowdy, nasty, sweaty boar.

-Baelish! Your whores are either getting better or I’m lowering my standards! -

Baratheon slammed his money on the table.

\- I assume your stay at the “Mockingbird” was satisfying, Mr Baratheon? -

-Indeed it was, Littlefinger. The one with the red hair, with the tits! Oh, what was her name! -

-Bessie? - -Yes, Bessie with her tits! That whore deserves all the praise she can get! -

Littlefinger snorted. Poor Bessie.

-Listen, Mr Baratheon… - Robert took out his flask and sipped some wine.

\- Can you help out this business and bring some of your esteemed friends? -

-The only friend I’d want to bring here is my Ned, but he’d rather die than be here. -

Baelish nodded.

-But cheating seems to come easy on him. Like, he has a bastard living in his household. -

Robert slammed his fist on the table.

-One bad word about Eddard Stark and it will be your last. -

Littlefinger left for the Martell- Lannister bar. It was as crowded as usual and there he spotted his victim for tonight, Jon Snow. Snow was serving drinks quickly, while wiping the bar and keeping conversations. Petyr approached him, tapping on the bar.

\- A martini, please! - Snow made the drink quickly and handed him the glass.

-You’re Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you? - The young man frowned, a wrinkle forming on his forehead. Next to him was undoubtedly Daenerys Targaryen, impeccably dressed in a black satin dress and diamond earrings. She was glaring at Littlefinger.

-Eddard Stark is my father, yes. And you’re what, a bookkeeper? -

-Among other things, yes. -

-What do you want? -

-Who was your mother again? -

-Why do you care? -

-So the rumours are true. Not even you know who your mother is. - Daenerys was now looking at him with the stare that rivalled a dragon. But, Baelish was not willing to back down.

-Do you think she was a prostitute? Or a local girl? Is she even alive? -

-Will you fuck off? -

Screamed Daenerys, slamming her hand on the counter. Jon looked down. She squeezed his hand after Baelish left to taunt someone else. Jon rarely drank. Probably because he knew alcohol had a bad influence on him. His mind was clouded with the thought of Daenerys, what he saw at Jon Arryn’s funeral and the fact he was working in a place that could get sacked by the police every moment.

Right now, he was slouched on Daenerys’ shoulder, laughing and dancing the night away. He might even be drooling on her expensive-looking silk dress. Clutching her sides, Jon swooned and laughed.

-Black suits you. Reminds people you’re a scary, big dragon! - Daenerys shook her head. It was time for Jon to go.

She pulled Jaime by the collar of his dark red suit, so the tall man was forced to look down.

-Jon is feeling a bit under the weather. -

-I see… -

Daenerys dragged him to the Stark manor somehow and following Jon’s drunken instructions, It was not easy driving with an intoxicated Jon Snow on her shoulder. He slurred his words and drooled. Dany finally managed to find his rooms, which were, to her surprise, filled with images of Jon’s childhood, his family and siblings, little gifts like dried flowers, strange wooden toys… She plopped him on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. She wanted to take off the rest, too, but she had to stop herself. Dany sat down on the chair, and exhaled.

\- Daenerys? -

-Yes? -

-Would you like to join me? -

She just got up and took off her dress, which fell on the wooden floor unceremoniously. She was left in her pale pink slip which would have to serve as a nightgown. She crawled next to Jon and leaned on his chest. He kissed her forehead and they fell asleep. Lyanna Stark was awaken by the sound of rain drops on the window. Groaning, she got up and pulled on her bathrobe. Walking downstairs in the living room, she was surprised not to see Jon up and reading, eating or being lazy with Robb and Arya. She went upstairs and knocked on his door, but there was no sound. Concerned, she opened the door and entered the half-lit room. Jon’s room was not complicated. White walls, furniture, a closet, a bed and a lot of pictures. And his dog, Ghost, fast asleep by the bed, which was strange, as he slept with Jon. Jon himself was asleep, shirtless, with a half-naked girl in his bed. Lyanna wanted to laugh, but she bit her hand. The girl was very pretty, and very familiar, and dear Jon was holding her, as if he was afraid she might escape. She picked up the dress from the floor, staring at the label. Blue Rose. Something clicked. Silvery hair, expensive taste. Targaryen. She was one of them. The couple stirred and Jon woke up first, to spot his aunt hovering over them.

-Aunt Lyanna! -

Daenerys woke up, as if she was zapped by lightning.

-Aunt Lyanna! What are you doing here? -

Lyanna extended her hand to Dany, who took it gladly and shook hands.

-Lyanna Stark, nice to meet you. -

-Daenerys Targaryen, pleased to meet you, Miss Stark. -

-Call me Lyanna. And please, do get dressed, we’re having breakfast. -

Lyanna left the room, laughing. Dany put her head between her hands.

-She thinks we had sex, doesn’t she? -

Jon blushed.

-Is that so bad? -

Now it was Dany’s turn to blush. She got up and threw one leg over Jon, followed by the other. Jon inhaled deeply. They’re getting too close to be appropriate. And he could sink her reputation as a respectable young woman. A bastard and an heiress, knocking boots? The town would have a filed day, and the danger of the Targaryen clan coming for him was not appealing. Dany looked around the room, almost half-naked. Jon could see everything, from her garters to her socks, so she might just as well be naked. He hid his head under the pillow. Dany tapped him on the back.

-You might want to get up. I’m not facing your aunt alone. -

-She will never let me forget this one. -

-She seems like a nice lady. -

Lyanna quietly sipped her tea, observing the two young people. Jon looked like he’s been to hell and back, and Daenerys was shy and blushing.

-How long have you two been together? -

-We’re friends. -

-Sure, Jon. -

-Aunt Lyanna! -


	5. The Old Way

Tywin Lannister liked to think he was a brilliant tactician. A master-political and business mind. The man who single-handedly maneuvered between mob wars, mayors and policemen, all for the sake for keeping his family wealthy and their name feared and respected.

But, where he succeed as a moneymaking power house, he failed as a parent. Right now, seated at the head of the table with his three children, he realized how much he failed.

Jaime, dressed in an expensive, dark navy suit and dark blue tie, was fidgeting the stem of his glass, while his eldest, Cersei, looking very angry and upset in red was eyeing Tyrion, who was not even caring that he was in the presence of his family. The Lannister Lions. Just a sad bunch consisting of a bored and desolate housewife, an attempted restaurant owner and Tyrion.

But, this meeting was concerning Jaime and his age and marriage plans.

“I hope you are aware why we are all gathered here. “

“Is this another intervention?” Signed Tyrion.

Cersei rolled her eyes.

“It is not always about you, little beast.”

“This concerns mostly Jaime, but this is a family matter. As you see, I am not getting any younger.”

“Certainly.”

“Tyrion!” Shouted Cersei, slapping his wrists. Jaime looked over and snickered.

“That is enough! Now, Cersei, your 4 children are a gift and a blessing. But, there is no one to carry on the Lannister name when we’re all gone. Therefore, Jaime, I expect you to get engaged by 3 months time.”

“What?” Yelled the three lions in union.

“This is not a piece of advice, this is what you have to do.”

“I’d like to think I’m fairly young.”

“Cersei is your age and she has 4 children.”

Cersei started shaking, her face going pale. This was a warped version of reality.

“Father, why force Jaime? He has time? And who would he marry?”

“Someone younger than him, of course. I had a candidate or two in mind. “

“A candidate? What is this, a contest?” Asked Cersei, lighting a cigarette.

“To be fair, Jaime is no prize.”

“Tyrion! “

“What? Father’s right.”

Tywin was surprised by his youngest son’s reaction.

“And why would you say Jaime is not a prize?”

“Jaime has gay rumours plaguing him wherever he goes because he has never been spotted with a woman once in his adult life, Father.”

Tywin Lannister had an intimidating presence, to put mildly. His inhumane height, deadly piercing green-blue eyes and stone cold demeanour, his way to command a room was unmatched and we was truly a force to be reckoned with. Tywin took a few steps forward, placing both of his hands on the table, nostrils flaring.

“No son of mine would be engaged in such behaviour.”

Tyrion shrugged.

“And who the hell are your candidates?”

Cersei felt her pulls race, her breath becoming shallow. She was unable to think and to breathe, limbs numb and cold. Jaime noticed her discomfort.

“Cersei? Get her some water, please!”

Tywin walked over to his daughter, fanning her with a paper he found. Cersei grew paler. In her mind all she could hear was a static noise, cold and white as her future. She reached her hand briefly, but the ringing in her ears stopped.

“Cersei, are you alright?”

“Yes, I am, thank you.“ She leaned on her chair. Her cigarette was out now. Cersei’s shoulders were shaking.

“Father, I’ll find a solution, we’ll talk later.”

Tywin squinted at Jaime.

“Very well. 3 months.”

Tywin and Tyrion excited the room.

“You know that the only woman I have ever loved is you. Only you.”He kissed her cold, white hands. The two golden shadows remained in the oak library a little longer.

 

Arya waved Mycah goodbye. They’ve been friends as long as the boy could remember. Arya had been his best friend at school and she didn’t mind he was younger. He liked hanging out with Arya. Happily lost in his thoughts, Mycah took the shortcut to his father’s butcher shop. It was through a rough, semi-forested area where he and Arya used to play when they were children. He recalled that she would always outrace him but she’d never beat him in a fight. Arya was quick and small, but he was always big and somewhat chubby, for he was teased for mercilessly at school. Mycah’s mum always thought he was handsome. When he recently asked Arya about it, she replied with “Who cares?”. His dad’s butcher shop was around the corner, so Mycah was excited to see his dad, since he loved how they bonded over their mutual love of cooking and meat. And then he noticed a strange boy looking at him in the woods. He was a good-looking boy, actually. The boy was tall and lean, with beautiful blonde hair. Mycah thought he looked like a storybook Prince Charming. Mycah thought maybe the golden boy got lost, so he walked a few paces.

“Hi there, are you lost?”

The boy walked slowly over. And then he broke Mycah’s kneecap with a bat. They boy fell down, wailing in pain. The golden boy pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the jugular. Mycah cried out, but the young man stuffed his mouth with a dirty rag. And then he pulled out a second knife. It looked like a blunt one, the edge looked as dull as the boy’s watery green eyes. The boy kept stabbing Mycah with it, causing him unbearable pains, dragging the blade across his soft tissue, but he wasn’t able to fight back. Mycah felt the light leaving his eyes, the pain becoming worse and worse, as the liquid used to contain his life poured out of him, The boy then proceeded to cut off Mycah’s ear with the dull blade, throwing it in the faint autumn grass. Mycah felt colder and colder, he needed a blanket and his mum. Why was the forest so cold? It was so sunny and warm when he played catch with Arya and her adorable dog, Nym. The husky was warm and soft, unlike the hard cold ground he was lying on. Mycah wanted to ask why, but didn’t have the strength to. He missed Nym and Arya, and Nym licking his face and Arya throwing a branch to Nym and she’d catch it and come back. He missed his mum and dad, and their butcher shop. They had only him. Who could take care of them? Dad was getting old, the years of butchering ruining his back and hands, and mum couldn’t clean forever? Her hands would get tied, and who would give her a hug? Mycah wished to help his mum. Where was she? Was she with dad or at the Stark’s house or somewhere else? His mind wondered to the Stark’s. They were all kind. He admired Ned, and Mrs Stark was so kind and always gave him cookies. Robb was his hero, and the serious and mysterious Jon Snow always allured him. Sansa looked like forest fairy with her long, red hair and pretty dresses. Bran and Rickon were boys, but sweet and kind boys. And Arya… His best friend. Mycah couldn’t think any more. The light left him. And that was Joffrey Baratheon’s first kill.

Joffrey raced home, all bloody, right over the marble staircase and the gaudy hallways filled with nasty portraits of fat naked women and chubby baby angels. Walking into the marble bathroom and belonged to him and him only, he took of the bloody clothes and put them in an already prepared paper bag. Climbing into the white, ice cold gilded tub, he let the shower water clean the butcher boy’s blood. Who would miss him anyway? Laughing like a lunatic, he washed the gore off of his lean body and stepped out, putting on a nice, white, fluffy robe with his initials on it. JTB. Joffrey Tywin Baratheon. For his beloved grandfather who would me immensely proud of this brilliant act of power. Joffrey felt like the robe he wore was more expensive than anything that butcher boy ever touched in his life. He walked out to his bedroom, which was grandiose and expensive. The room was all gold and black, with a gigantic canopy bed and a large pool table, with some furniture for his friends to sit on. Joff hopped on the bed, enjoying the sheer satisfaction of his first kill. And then he heard a knock and his older brother peeked his head through the door.

“Hi Joff! Are you free today?”

“No. Why?!” He asked, visibly annoyed by Gendry’s presence and existence.

“I was about to take Cella and Tommy to the park and I wondered if you want to go too.”

“No. Leave me the hell alone, bastard!”

Gendry signed, closing the door. He loved his siblings to death, but Joffrey was a handful. Gendry recalled when he was younger, waiting with his Uncle Jaime for mum to give birth. Joffrey took his sweet time, almost 12 hours. And even as a baby he cried a lot and loudly, roaring like a little lion. 

His dad was only present for his birth, or so he though… Cella jumped on his back, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Gendry laughed and the three of them left for the park.

 

Jaime and Tyrion walked into the basement bar where Jon was getting ready for the celebrations tonight, but he noticed his bosses looked gloomy as hell. Throwing down the rag, he crossed his arms.

“What happened?”

“Old man Tywin is giving Jaime shit for being unmarried. “

“Oh for fuck’s sake. “

“I know. If I found the right one I’d be married by now. But I don’t rush because this place takes a lot of work and I’m not dying tomorrow or anything.”

Jon inhaled deeply.

“Long before I was born, I know for a fact that my grandfather pressed Uncle Brandon to marry but he didn’t want to so he got him engaged to some random woman and he ran away on the wedding day which caused him to steal a car from the family and crash. No one pressed anyone for marriage after that. That’s why dad is leaving Sansa alone.”

“So it’s true. Greyjoy proposed to Sansa Stark.” Laughed Tyrion, popping open a wine bottle.

“Did he get his arse kicked out?!” Said Jaime, taking a glass.

“No...” Said Jon, shaking his head at the image of Robb and their father carrying Theon to the door and kicking him out.

“Is Sansa considering it?” Asked Jaime.

“Knowing her, no. She had the idea that she’d marry a handsome man and live in a beautiful house and have pretty kids when she was younger. I doubt it that Theon fills anything of these requirements.”

“And what about you Jon? When will we see you tie the knot?”

“Probably never.”

“And what about our Dragon Lady?”

“What about her?”

“I’ve seen you eyeing her.”

“As if I stand a chance.”

“She looks at you as if she’d jump your bones.”

“Marriage isn’t just about who you love nowadays. It’s about money and being secure and a good family name.”

“If only you were wrong.” Said Jaime, sipping the wine.

“Yeah, and Aerys would have my head if I came near his daughter. And Daenerys… She deserves a good, happy life. A long one. A stable one. I couldn’t give her that.”

Jaime and Tyrion looked at each other, knowingly.

“Who should I marry? Maybe old cunty Lysa Arryn? She is recently widowed. Seems like a catch!”

Jon gagged, remembering what happened recently.

“Or maybe Olenna Tyrell! She is widowed too!”

They all laughed.

“The old way has to die. You need to marry people for love, not for money to live a happy life.”

If only it was that easy.

“My Aunt… Lyanna. She refused to marry for anything but love.”

“Lyanna? Are you aware of how many men proposed to her?”

“No…?”

“My brother-in-law was among them.”

“Goodness gracious! I had no idea.”

“She rejected him without even thinking about it. It was very humiliating at the time.”

“I imagine.”

“And now he’s married to our bitch sister. Not a good ending for Bobby.“ Shrugged Tyrion.

“She isn’t that bad. “

“Just because she is your twin doesn’t mean you have to defend her.”

“Wait. You two are twins?”

“Yes.”

Jon nodded in surprise.

“Well, I better finish this cleaning this.”

 

The Targaryen household was busy tonight, which gave Daenerys the opportunity to sneak away. Viserys screwed up again, per usual. He got into a fight over some random girl, which annoyed their patriarch immensely. Aerys was a simple man. He worked hard, he was of old many but he put it to a good use. His empire, started by a great-great-grandfather blossomed and grew, but the only child that cared for it was Daenerys. Rhaegar was busy with other things and he had a young family to think of, Viserys was spoiled rotten by their mother, and this left Daenerys as the odd one out. Dany was smart and business savvy and unlike her brother had a nose for it. She always dressed the part. Dressed in a black, boat neckline, silky dress and a fur coat, along with blood her lips and pearls, she was ready for the kill. Her underground office was in a hangar in the harbour. It had her own office, storage units, all underground. Above, it was rented to a toy company, underneath it belonged all to alcohol and her gang. Mormont was tough to work with at first, but he was a decent chauffeur. Aggo, Rhakkaro and their posey were her well-paid security. She had a lovely assistant and translator named Missandei. Her empire grew as her ancestor’s once did. Looking over her shoulder, she tapped down to the storage units to check shipments. All was going smooth. She never understood the prohibition. People deserve their booze. It was useless, anyway, because people needed it still. The Dragon Lady checked her shipments for an another city before her mind wandered off to her favourite bar and bar tender. She missed Jon Snow. She hadn’t heard from him in a week. And she knew it was time for his shift to end. Stepping out in the dark, she changed the fur for a more neutral one and got Mormont to drive her to the bar. It was silent in the car, which was odd, as Jorah usually was chatty and they had odd conversations.

“Why so quiet, Mr Mormont?”

“Is it safe to be out at this time?”

“No. But I want to see a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes. And even if I was sleeping with him, it is no one’s concern who I am taking to bed.”

Jorah gritted his teeth. He always suspected golden and handsome Lannister, but the brooding bartender?

“Just… Be safe.”

Daenerys got out of the car. The night was freezing, but then she saw Jon walking out, wrapped in a coat and scarf. She waved and she could already feel his smile.

Jorah stared at her back, but he saw her nearly running to the dark haired man before giving him a hug. She laced their arms together before they walked away in the cool, starry night. Dany leaned her head on Jon’s shoulder and he was grateful that it was dark, because he was blushing.

“I have missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

What she wanted to say was that he was in her head all the time. But Daenerys Targaryen was too proud to let those words leave her lips.

“Do you want some warm tea? I can fell that you’re freezing.”

She nodded. The Stark estate was on the horizon. Jon opened the back door with a key that was hidden under a loose brick. Creaking it open, he signalled to Dany to follow him. It was dark and they were led by his flash light. Dany saw many family pictures on the walls so she had to ask him to stop, to observe them. Jon showed her a picture of Robb and him when they were little, both in Lyanna’s lap. Then there was a family picture of the previous generation, Rickard, Lyarra, Brandon, Ned, Lyanna and Benjen. The children looked quite young, Rickard has holding a leash that belonged to the horse on which Lyanna was sitting on, Lyarra was holding a toddler Benjen and Ned and Brandon where standing in front of the horse. Dany smiled how happy they looked. Another picture, Rickard Stark and an elderly man that looked oddly familiar. Aegon, her great-grandfather.

“Jon.”

“Yes?”

“That’s my great-grandfather, Aegon Targaryen.”

“The one that built that castle?”

“Yes. They knew each other. They were friends, even.”

“He looks very pleased with that watermelon, honestly.”

Rickard was holding a large watermelon, while Aegon was sitting and laughing. Behind them, there was a man handling a petulant toddler, Her grandfather and father. She smiled and they kept walking quietly, but the wooden stairs kept creaking. Jon opened the warm kitchen. It was old and rustic, with flower patterned pots and dishes, along with a sink, some simple furniture and bright blue curtains. Jon pulled out a dark green kettle and put some water in it.

“Jasmine?”

“My favourite.” She smiled.

Maybe the kitchen was warm enough, so she took of the thick woollen coat and placed it behind her chair. Jon took a seat across her.

“I want to talk about your mother.”

“I’d talk about her if I know something.”

“Your father told you nothing?”

“My only knowledge of her is that she was a woman.”

“Oh wow. I’m sorry to bother you...”

“It’s alright. No one wishes to know who she is more than me.”

They drank their tea quietly before the door opened and Lyanna pranced in with some fresh vegetables, followed by a loud Arya.

“I just don’t understand why they would dismiss us from school… Oh hello Jon!” She stopped in her tracks when she spotted a silver haired beauty in the chair across of Jon.

“Hi, I’m Arya.” 

Daenerys had a feeling that she'd take a great liking to the girl, who reminded her of Jon so much.

“Pleasure to meet you, Arya. I’m Daenerys.” She gave her a warm smile.

“What happened?”

“I have no idea. I came to school and they just sent us home today. They said nothing.”

Lyanna shook her head.

“What could have happened?”

“Aunt Lyanna…?” Jon turned to his aunt, the topic he just spoke about with Daenerys was still burning in his mind.

“Yes?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Sure.”

“Do you know anything of my mother?”

Lyanna went a little pale.

“I promised your father I’d stay silent, and even I know very little. The only help I can give you is that you look in your middle name.”

“My middle name?”

“Yes.”

“I know nothing of my middle name! I am shocked to find out I have one!”

“My middle name is Serena. “

“And mine is Lyanna!” Grinned Arya.

“Dany?”

“Visenya Aelinor. I have 2.”

“Okay, I am very surprised.”

“Jon, I love you to death but sometimes your knowledge and clueless moments have concerned.” Said Lyanna.

“I thought I wasn’t given one at birth.”

“Yes, you were.”

“And what is it?”

“Arthur. Your middle name is Arthur.”

 

On the other side of town, Ramsay Bolton couldn’t believe his ears. His boss of many years, Mr Euron Greyjoy, was telling him about a murder that just had occurred in the suburbs. Apparently, some boy was butchered to death, but Ramsay knew that was no mafia kill. They were much cleaner, much quicker, unless they need to send a message, and the message here was “I’m a deranged maniac” but so was he, therefore, he couldn’t really judge. But there was something menacing about the way the boy was butchered. In the shitty light, greasy, windowless office, Euron lit a thick cigarette.

“I fucking swear Bolton, if we have more competition, I will fucking butcher them.”

“I think this might be a revenge thing. Or a lunatic serial killer.”

“A serial killer? Explain.”

“The thing is, it was methodical and angry. There is no emotion in a hired killing. Also, the butcher was a good man. Never set a foot wrong. So why would they come for his kid?”

Euron leaned over, blowing smoke into Ramsay’s face, making him annoyed.

“If you’re right, this could be useful for us. Put that rabbit self-righteous dickhead Stannis Baratheon on the trial of a serial killer and leave us the fuck alone. How will we know if it’s a serial one?”

“If he strikes again.”

“That sick twisted mind of yours deserves more appreciation, Bolton.”

“Thank you, I know.”

“I have a little job for you.”

“Will it be messy?”

“Yes.” 

“Excellent.”

 

Stannis Baratheon had just recovered a gruesome crime scene. The boy was all bloody, flies attacking his remains. Pictures were being taken, so he covered his face with a tissue to check out the body. It looked disgusting, but it was not the work of Ramsay Bolton. The Flayer was much more precise and elegant in his killings, cleaner. This was a deranged mad dog. And Stannis was willing to catch him.

“Have you notified the family?”

“Yes.”

“Oh gods. Did you tell them how he perished?”

“Not yet.”

“Good, I’m going to need sane minds to solve this one.”


	6. The Kiss

Mycah’s funeral was painful. Jon Snow never saw Arya cry, not when she was 6 and fell off a tree ad scrapped both her knees, bleeding all over the place. She didn’t cry when Lupa died, who was the mother of the litter of pups they inherited. Arya rarely cried as a baby. But now, she was sobbing into Jon’s chest, crying as they placed Mycah’s coffin into the ground. The septon finished the prayer and the gravediggers started throwing dirt in the hole. It was a terrible way to say goodbye to Mycah and his life. An undeserving one. Mycah’s parents were in tears, mourning the loss of their only child. The quiet and lonely service was over and the Stark’s left for home.

The entire family was in the smaller drawing room, sitting on the old furniture that grandmother Lyarra bought in Dorne, all light blue and silvery. Arya was still leaning on Jon’s shoulder, eyes puff and red. Jon was holding her hand, comforting her. Lyanna got up and took Arya’s hand, leading her upstairs. Catelyn was pouring tea for everyone, even for Jon, which shocked him, especially when Catelyn took a seat next to him. She looked at him with concern in her eyes, her face otherwise a quiet mask. Her auburn hair made her appear even paler, as she was quite light. The Tully blue colour of her eyes looked watery today, just like Sansa’s when she was feeling desolate.

“Jon, did Arya mention anything about someone disliking Mycah?”

“Absolutely not. He was bullied, yes, but I can’t remember anyone having something against him. He is a good kid. Or was.”

Catelyn looked down at the tops of her shoes. Her hand grazed Jon’s back.

“Thank you for taking care of Arya today. She just lost a friend.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her today. Don’t worry.”

Catelyn got up and joined Ned, who just returned from a phone call. Ned looked concerned.

“Balon called, he needs our answer.”

“It’s a no.” Said Sansa, rolling her eyes.

“Very well. I have promised him nothing. Your choice.“Sansa exhaled, leaning into the soft pillows of the chair. Not today, Old Kraken. Not today.

“We need to give them an excuse. Tell them that we have other plans for Sansa.” Said Catelyn, gathering the cups.

“What other plans?” Said Sansa, going through a magazine.

“Mace suggested that you and Loras could wed.”

Sansa bit her lip not to laugh. She liked men as well she liked women, as did Margaery. But Loras? Loras loved men, especially Renly. That would be one sad marriage. She’d spend her time with Marg and Loras would be with Renly all the time and it would indeed be a fruitless one.

“I don’t see myself marrying Loras.”

“Why? Margaery would be your sister-in-law.” Said Catelyn, searching for a missing cup from the set. Then she remembered it’s with Arya.

“I don’t see it that way. I see them as my family. “

“Very well. Your choice.”

Ned and Catelyn retrieved to Ned’s privy where he searched for some old paperwork.

“This is bad. Very bad.”

“How so?”

“Alanis, that old urchin, started some rumours about our Sansa. That wile creature!”

“Rumours don’t concern us, Cat. We know our Sansa.”

 

Captain Garland Tyrell reported for duty to police commissioner Baratheon. He said that there was no new evidence, nothing. Only some bloody rags the boy wore and his cut off ear. Nodding, Stannis requested for him to sit down. Stannis himself has been dabbling into darkness himself lately. The Red Woman, Melisandre, had been a great support and comfort in many ways. She was absolutely carrying and supporting. And she was his mistress now. His boring missus was another burden, a religious zealot that only cared about the scripture and sometimes their only surviving child, young Shireen. The girl had a nasty scar on her face, an accident her mother is responsible for. When Shireen was learning to walk, Selyse was in deep prayer and let the girl wander around the house, causing her to fall downstairs and cut her cheek open, so the girl was lucky to be alive.

Tyrell reported on the issue with the people, complaining how rumours about a deranged serial killer have started. Garland leaned in the old, chair and it almost broke, causing the young man to jump up. Stannis chuckled, looking at a photograph of the crime scene.

“The killer wasn’t really methodical, just went in for the kill, like a deranged lunatic.” Stannis sipped his coffee, as bitter as he is.

“So you don’t think it’s Bolton?”

“Don’t mention that name around me.”

“How can’t we still catch him?”

“Because the weasel has powerful people protecting him.”

Garland nodded, looking through the photographs again. There was nothing they could use, just the butchered meat of a child. And then, a police officer came in, panicking.

“A little girl has been murdered on in Blackwood forest!”

Stannis rose from his seat. The Child Killer struck again.

 

Cersei was searching for her little boy. Joff has always been a complicated one, but he was her baby. And unlike Gendry, she knew he was Jaime’s. He was as golden as the sun and as beautiful as she imagined for her children. She wasn’t sure about Myrcella and Tommen, but their golden hair led her to believe they were a gift from Jaime too. He was the only man she loved and trusted. They shared a womb, therefore, they belonged together. And he gave her three, beautiful, little lions. Her children were everything she ever wanted. Cersei and Jaime had been involved with each other since they were teenagers, her first kiss had been Jaime. She recalled that her father told her Jaime came out holding Cersei’s heel. Knocking on Joffrey’s door, she heard a faint “yes” so she opened the door and saw her beautiful boy sitting in his bed, playing with Sir Pounce. Th dumb cat kept hissing at him, so Joff pushed him off. Cersei came to the bed and hugged Joffrey, leaning his little head on her chest, only to realise it wasn’t so little. This brought a shadow of sadness to Cersei, who would love for her children to stay little forever. Kissing the top of his head, she whispered to him.

“My dear boy… Mum needs to ask something of you.”

“Yes?”

“The police and Uncle Stannis believe there is child killer on the loose, so please, for mum’s sake, and your own, be safe. I’m ready to get you home schooled if you’re afraid.”

Joff looked up, his blue-green eyes looking at her, lashes batting. Joff smiled, Cersei's heart melting.

“Don’t worry, Mum. I’m safe.”

Cersei nodded, before getting up and walking to his bathroom.

“Joff, do you need any new clothes? I’m going shopping tomorrow...” She looked in the bathroom, only to find something that gave her chills. A brown bag of bloody clothes. She inhaled deeply, remembering Joffrey’s childhood. He liked to slice cat’s open to see their kittens inside. He liked to scare his siblings, but when they retaliated, he’d always run to her. Joff was a mean child at school, always aggressive and prepared for a fight, so the bloody clothes weren’t a shock to her. He liked to stone stray dogs to death, dismember animals, read about death and torture. Her child was a child killer. But, if that is what her beautiful golden boy wants, how can she deny him?

 

Robb locked the door behind them.

“How dare you show up in my house!”

Jeyne had tears in her eyes.

“I thought you loved me.”

“It’s complicated, Jeyne. You can’t cause me scenes like these and then ask for something!”

Jeyne’s chocolate eyes poured tears. Her breath hitched and she needed to sit down.

“I thought you loved me...”

“This is the second time you’re telling me this! You can’t show up in my house in the middle of the night! Someone could have seen you!”

“I thought… You’d marry me.”

“Jeyne… What did you expect of me? To get in bed with me just so I have to marry you?”

She wept, shaking.

“I have nothing now!”

“As you did before. I know I’m a bad person, but at least I’m not pretending to be a good one.”

She left in tears, racing from the Stark estate. Robb didn’t even look back. Instead, he started his car and drove to his favourite bar, his thoughts a mess. He knew what Jeyne was in for. She wanted to have sex with him so he’d feel obliged to marry her, or even get pregnant, so he had to marry her. But Robb was tired of those games, he had seen it all. They always did that to him. He had money, looks, a business to inherit… They never wanted him for him. Jeyne wanted the prestige, Robb wanted to be happy. And he’d never be that with a dull, mousey girl. Robb parked behind the red building, to be greeted by the Viper himself. Robb waved to Oberyn, who was carrying a brown bag.

“Roberto Stark! How are you, my friend!” His Dornish accent twanged across the empty lot, so the men hugged. Robb usually wore simple cuts, greys and blacks and blues, but Oberyn liked to be dressed to the nines, in the three piece camel brown suit and a brick red tie. He even had a golden chain with a snake on his vest.

“Those Lannister’s are rubbing off on you, aren’t they?”

“Shut it. Let’s get in.”

Robb opened the door, Oberyn following him into the smokey bar. The place was crowded, men and women dancing to the beat of the loud music. Jon Snow and Gendry were busier than ever, pouring drinks and serving people. And then Robb spotted someone who shook him to the core. She was clad all in black, her dress had no back, only a silvery chain holding it. Her pale platinum hair was piled in a complicated bun, she had black, velvety gloves on her arms, along with a pair of diamond earrings on her ears. Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful, but Robb knew, she was off limits, as Jon had puppy eyes for her. Robb saw his brother nearly drool, as he looked at Daenerys. Laughing, he walked over to Jon and asked for a drink.

“You look like absolute shit, Robb.”

“Oh why thank you, kind sir.”

“Is it Jeyne?”

“Just give me a drink.”

Robb just never talked about it.

Jon signed, as Robb was as stubborn as a bull, whenever he had a goal, he’d fulfil it, whenever he had a secret, he’d keep it for himself. The room got louder, Jon couldn’t almost hear his thoughts. Pouring some vodka for Robb, he looked up to spot Daenerys. She so was gorgeous, it was looking like the sun. And Jon knew, he’d never had the courage to say anything to her face. Gulping, he made some more drinks. And then he noticed Robb was gone, mingling with the crowds, dancing with the bunch, taking off his jacket and waving around it like with a flag. Jon laughed and Robb and then saw Daenerys approaching him.

“What do you want to drink?”

Dany licked her lips.

“Old Fashioned.”

Jon nodded.

“Good choice.”

She leaned over to him, and she was close, close enough for him to smell her perfume, close enough for her to pull his black shirt and kiss him. But she didn’t. Instead, they both stared at the red rim of her glass. Jon wished the imprint was on his lips.

The night was still young, the people were dancing and dancing, all around. Jon felt he’d get dizzy from just watching them. Dany danced a little with her brother-in-law, which was a weird way to think about Oberyn. He was her friend first before Elia married Rhaegar.

Elia. Soft and gentle Elia who always wore soft and flowing dresses, who loved their two children with all she had. Elia, who was always gentle and kind, just as Rhaegar. They made a good couple, Dany thought. Both kind and gentle souls, loving and sweet, focused on their children. Her niece and nephew were still small, but Dany knew they’d grow up to be good people. With those parents, how could they not? Yes, their marriage was an arranged one, but it was a happy match, they were friendly with one another. Was that the key to success? Daenerys rejected proposals right and left. Their was a foreign horse trader and a military man, then the mayor of a city… She could have been well off married by now, but she didn’t. Her choice only.

She noticed Jon’s brother tumbling across the dance floor. Oberyn let her go and she ran to the Stark and grabbed him, pulling him to the counter where Jon was. Jon cussed and jumped over, slapping his brother and giving him some water, but Robb was tongue twisted. He was throwing up behind the counter and Gendry had to clean it. Oberyn told Jon to leave and Daenerys and Jon carried Robb in his car. Jon threw the keys to Daenerys.

“You’re driving.”

She started the engine and watched Jon holding Robb through the mirror. Carefully, they pulled him out of the car after a silent ride. The group stumbled Robb in Lyanna’s house, to make sure his mother doesn’t see him like that. Dany opened doors for Jon who carried Robb, and finally, they placed him in a bad, but they managed to wake up Lyanna, who unhappily decided to help Robb. Telling the pair to leave, she took of his shoes and placed him in the bed.

Jon and Dany left the room, leaving Lyanna to handle her rowdy nephew. The pair walked away in silence. The drive to Dragonstone was quiet. Jon parked the car and got out to say goodbye to Dany. They stood there, in silence, and Daenerys could almost feel his lips. And Jon walked a few steps closer to her, putting his hands on her face, staring at her for a while.

She looked at him, amethyst eyes flickering in the dark. And they kissed. It was a soft, chaste thing, to mark the start of something new and good and right and real. Their lips parted, and Dany looked down, blushing for what seemed the first time in her life. Jon smiled back. Dany rose her head slightly, but Jon couldn’t resist to bump their foreheads together.

“Good night, Jon Snow.”

“Good night, Daenerys Targaryen.”

She raced back to the bridge that connected the island and the mainland, leaving Jon Snow all alone. He leaned against the car, holding his head and laughing.


	7. A Series Of Unfortunate People

There was a big crowd in front of the city hall. In light of the serial killing that have just happened, the mayor resigned and there was a need for a new one. Lyanna Stark, carrying a basket from her shopping trip to the bakery, looked at a man who was holding a speech about safety, children and how useless the police commissioner is, as he was incompetent and no where near of solving the crimes. It’s been nearly 3 months since the killings, with 5 bodies already on the pile. The call the city concerned, was a mild term. Parents everywhere were critiquing the mayor who actually had the decency to resign, and the police commissioner who had no decency and therefore didn’t resign. Yet. The people had questions. How did a serial killer manage to take down 8 children and no one was able to catch them. The man continued to rave and rage about the mob.

“And the mobsters! The police and city do nothing while they’re stealing from us! Us! We are hard-working, good people! And they killed our children! Whoever that monster is, he should be hanged! Just like the mafia!”

The people were clapping and rooting for the man, who was shouting on the feet of a statue of Aegon Targaryen, a patron of the city and a former mayor.

“DOWN WITH THE POLICE! JUSTICE FOR THE CHILDREN!”

The crowd kept chanting the prayer, as if it would make the police solve the case and arrest the killer. Shaking her head, Lyanna, the once rebellious Lyanna, knew that nothing could break the system. The issue was that the mob held the mayor by the balls, but now, that Victarion Greyjoy has resigned, perhaps...A new person could salvage this shit pile of a city. Lyanna walked down the farmer’s market, and went to her favourite pharmacy. Samwell Tarly, a dear boy, was packing some medicine for a guest.

“Hello, darling Sam.”

“Miss Stark! Always a pleasure. Here is your primrose cream. And stay safe in these dangerous times.”

“And when has it been safe, dear Sam? When?”

“You speak wise words, Lyanna.“Smiled elderly Aemon behind the counter, as he mixed some powders. Lyanna noticed how frail he looked.

“Is everything okay, Maester Aemon?!

“Of course, I’ve been under the weather lately. My great-niece has been a wonderful girl and brought me some home made soup, so I’m feeling better.”

“Wonderful to hear. I have to say goodbye, as my family is needing me.”

Lyanna walked back home, her head heavy. What if that idiot did something to Arya, Bran or Rickon? How would they defend themselves?

 

Shireen Baratheon was dropped off by her father to her Uncle Robert’s house for her own safety. She knew something about some killings, but decided not to ask. It was for the best. The girl wasn’t fond of staying at her Uncle’s house, his wife was mean, and so was Joffrey, but Gendry, Cella and Tommy were kind. She couldn’t wait to see Gendry and have the four of them go to the park and play, or to watch Sir Pounce… Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Entering the large mansion, she stepped on the thick, red carpet and walked a few steps. She was carrying a bag with her things, and Martha, the maid, was sweet enough to lead her to the guest room. The room was near Joff’s, but she’d manage. Unpacking, Shireen laid on the bed for a while, before she heard Uncle Robert calling her. Racing downstairs, she jumped and gave her uncle a big hug.

“How have you been, Dot?!”

“I’ve missed you, Uncle Robert!”

He messed her hair up, and then she saw her aunt and Joffrey in the shadow of the door, with Gendry and the two younger ones racing to hug her. After receiving a group hug, the small company sat down for lunch.

“You are a delight to be around, Shireen.” Smiled Cersei through her teeth. The sweet girl smiled back.

“Thank you, Aunt Cersei.”

“And how as school been, Shireen?” Asked Gendry, taking a bite of the ham.

“It’s difficult, as usual, but thank you. How are your geology studies?”

“They’re alright, hard, but alright.”

The table fell silent. Robert sipped some pineapple juice, because the prohibition hit him hard, too. Gendry decided to talk again.

“There is a barbecue at the Stark’s on Sunday. Would you like to go with us?”

Shireen nodded, excited.

The Baratheon family kept eating in quiet.

That night, Jaime came over as Robert was out. The children were in bed, so Cersei was free to do whatever she wanted. Jaime walked in, quietly. The pair kissed and he went upstairs to wash his hands as Cersei prepared drinks. Jaime was barely able to find the guest bathroom among the large corridors of the mansion, and then he finally noticed the heavy wooden door with a golden WC sign. How tacky. Jaime was about to open it, but then he discovered that the door across was wide open, and that Joffrey was standing in the door frame, his back turned to Jaime. The man was confused at first what it all meant, but then he spotted a blunt knife. He immediately grabbed the boy and disarmed him, noticing that little Shireen was sleeping in the room.

“What the hell, kid!” He grabbed him and dragged him downstairs to his mother, who dropped the tray with the drinks when she saw Jaime carrying Joffrey with a blunt knife.

“Jaime? What is the meaning of this?”

“This one was in front of Shireen’s bedroom, with a knife! What the hell, Joffrey, why would you scare her like this! She is your cousin and has never done anything bad to you!”

Joffrey sat on the expensive yellow furniture, grazing the velvet with his hands, in silence. The boy was looking in front of him, not even paying attention to his mother and her brother, his actual father.

“Joffrey, are you out of your damn mind! Imagine if she woke up, thinking it’s the serial killer!”

At these words, Cersei looked down in shame. Joffrey didn’t even flinch. Jaime’s eyes widened in shock and horror, realising that Joffrey is in fact, The Child Killer.

“You… You knew about this the entire time… Are you out of your god damn mind Cersei!”

Cersei stayed quiet, a tear streaming down her face.

“I have to protect my boy, Jaime. I have to.”

“And who protected Mycah? And the other children! Goodness gracious…” Jaime, clearly disgusted, found his coat and put it on.

“Report him. I won’t, for now. And don’t speak to me again.”

Cersei fell to her knees, crying. Joffrey got up, looking down at her.

“I see your troubles with men never truly stop.” In her anger, Cersei slapped him, causing Joffrey to run upstairs in tears, leaving Cersei a sobbing mess on the floor.

 

This was a very rough day in the Targaryen household. Viserys fucked up, again, so the family was staging an intervention, again. Rhaella sent him off to his room, as if he was 5 and sat down annoyed. After ordering some tea, the mother of three pulled out a fan.

“Mum, I’d tell you to be easy on him, but he doesn’t deserve it.”

Rhaella nodded.

“And you, my love? How are you? You look radiant.”

She blushed, thinking of that kiss with Jon. They exchanged a few more, but they’ve been both working and haven’t seen each other in a long time. She missed his sweet smile and starry eyes.

“I’ve been happy recently. Life has been going well.”

“Is there anyone on your mind, love?”

“Not really, Mum. I’ve been always happy on my own.”

“Rejecting men left and right.”

“Well, someone has too.”

She laughed.

“I am proud of you for taking you stance, Dany. If only I had your courage.”

Dany smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Did I tell you that your father will be running for mayor and that he is expecting for your brothers to step up and help out in the company?”

“Oh gods. To both of those.”

What in the world was her father thinking? Becoming mayor now, with a potential mob war above their heads? She knew what they did to Victarion Greyjoy. They held him by his throat and he did everything to serve the mob. Daenerys was terrified for her father, but then she remembered, she has the upper hand on the mob. Daenerys ruined their business, lowering their sales, as her alcohol was cheaper and better in quality. Perhaps, having a father who was on top of the city wouldn’t be the worst thing. And maybe, he’d let her finally help with Dragon, Inc. as she was as twice as capable as her brothers.

“Perhaps, Aerys will finally let you help in the company.”

“I’d love to do that! But what about Rhaegar and Viserys?”

“I wouldn’t trust Viserys with a sheep and Rhaegar has other problems,”

“What other problems?”

“He and Elia have been having a rough patch. Nothing too serious. It’s over Aegon’s daycare, but it brought out many other issues and now they’re at it. Rhaenys is staying here for the week and Elia left for Doran’s house, and Rhaegar is laying low this week… I can’t and I don’t want to get involved into their marriage.”

“Of course.”

“It’s like this stupid prohibition. I hate it, but can’t do anything against it.”

“Hm?”

“Yes, Daenerys. Your mother is against the prohibition.”

“Like half of the world, Mum.”

“Can you talk to Oberyn to talk with Elia? You two always got along splendidly.”

By that, she sold him booze, he made her laugh from time to time and his bartender was giving her butterflies.

“I’ll drop by his restaurant later and talk to him.”

“Oh, they have such delicious salmon there.”

Dany couldn’t help but agree.

 

Sansa was confused. Unsure if she should accept the marriage with Loras, or the idea with the Greyjoy’s or just become a bloody spinster.

Closing the doors of her large, rosewood closet, she pulled out the dress for tonight. For her parents, she is sleeping at Margaery’s, for her, she is going out to dance and cough smoke tonight. She took a look across her childhood room. The walls were painted lilac, with frescos of soft lavender and spring flowers on them. The furniture was made out of rosewood, that was painted white, with a vanity, a bed, a small settee, a bookshelf and a family photograph. She had a book with flowers she used to press with Marge when they were little. Was she ready to leave this all behind? Sansa wasn’t ready to answer that. Before leaving, she checked on Arya, who was lying abed, alone, in her room.

“Hi, Arya, how are you?”

“I’m okay, you?”

“Very well.”

“Is Aunt Lyanna home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll go check on her. You have fun tonight.”

“I’m going to a sleepover, Arya.”

“Are you?”

They both laughed in union and left the house, in opposite directions. Arya run upstairs in Lyanna’s house, barging into the room where Lyanna was working on a dress, while Jon was cutting some lace for her.

“Please, be precise, I need to get these applications right… Oh hi Arya!”

Jon gave her a big grin before she jumped between them.

“Can I cut lace?”

“Arya, no offence, but you cut like a blacksmith.”

The girl nodded, defeated.

“True, Aunt Lyanna, true. Do you want me to make us my crazy lemonade?”

They nodded in union. Arya walked downstairs to the kitchen and started to search for the ingredients. Lemons, sugar, water, cherries, oranges, ice, berries and mint leaves. Before she was even able to start, she heard a loud banging on the door.

“Gendry?”

“Oh, hi Arya! Where is your brother?”

“The drunk one, the sad one, the smart one or the tiny one?”

“The sad one.”

“Upstairs, making a dress.”

Gendry nodded, surprised.

“You need help with that lemonade?”

“Cut those oranges.”

The lemonade was ready in no time, so the pair walked upstairs with a pitcher of it and some glasses. She opened the door for him and Lyanna was surprised to see Gendry.

“Hello, aren’t you a bit early, Baratheon?”

“Aren’t you a bit ugly for a dress, Snow?”

They all laughed, but for Jon, who puckered his lips and placed the last flower on the pile. He was done for the day, but the night was just beginning.

“We need to change, Gendry. Brought the clothes?”

“I knew I forgot something...”

“I’ll get you a shirt, wait.”

Jon came back, already dressed in a black, ironed shirt and gave one to Gendry. The young man immediately took off his shirt and put it on a chair next to him.

“Goodness gracious, Gendry!”

“What?”

Lyanna chuckled, but Arya couldn’t help but stare. Gendry was well shaped, he had muscles, and she would lie if she found his mug ugly. The two men left after some lemonade, leaving the niece and aunt alone.

“Aunt Lyanna.”

“Yes?”

“What is wrong with Gendry?”

“Oh dear.”

 

Marge put on the last coat of mascara on her lashes. Dressed in minty green, she was ready to take the bar by storm. Sansa wore light blue tonight, which somehow made her appear more mature, as if she was older. She also noticed a strange tension between Sansa and Loras, but couldn’t place a finger on it. The group, dressed to the nines, was waiting for the fourth partner in crime, Renly. He was as late as always. As Loras was driving, Sansa and Marge were in the back, but Sansa could still see his eyes staring back at her. She gulped, deciding to ignore it, but cunning Margaery knew there was something off. They entered the bar, early, but somehow, it was filled to the brim. Oberyn and Bronn were leading the night, as Jaime was upstairs, closing up the restaurant. Bronn shouted at the musicians to play louder music, and they obliged. Sansa tried to dance, but the look in Marge’s eyes told her that something was indeed off.

“Marge, come here, we need to talk.” Sansa took her hand and they sat down on the stairs that connected the bar to the restaurant. Sansa took Marge’s hand, looking her seriously in the eyes, brushing her cheek.

“Marge… I don’t know if you are aware of this, but your father suggested that I marry Loras.”

“Sansa, that’s a great idea! We’ll always be together. Loras would let us be together and we could do what the hell we want.”

“But that’s not what I want, Marge. I want a family someday. I want children.”

Margaery looked at her, eyes watery.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

“Marge. Of course you do.”

“Then why won’t you marry Loras, we can be free after that.”

“We both know that marriage demands children, and Loras and I can’t have any.”

“Marriage doesn’t demand children. Society does.”

“All true… But, you’re the only love I have ever known, and I’ve grown. We can still continue our relationship, but I want a family.”

Margaery got up.

“I need time away from you.”

She got up and left in angry tears, and Sansa started crying, because she finally felt the mounting pressure collide on her back all over again. Marge has been awkward since the proposals started, and she grew a little distant. As if Theon Greyjoy meant to her anything more than Margaery. And then she felt someone’s eyes on her back. She turned around, to see a shocked Jaime Lannister on top of the stairs. This was the second time today he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Jaime just walked slowly next to Sansa.

“May I join the pity party?”

“Are-aren’t you disgusted?”

“By the way you two broke up? Not really, I’ve seen worse.”

She nodded, wiping her tears.

“So, what’s wrong?”

And then she told him everything, the entire story, every detail, their relationship, her parents, the fear, the issue of marriage, the rumours that have been chasing her…

“And you?”

Jaime couldn’t honestly tell her that his nephew/son was a serial killer and his sister was covering for him, but he decided to tell her he dumped a girl he was dating today and he told her about the three month deadline.

“And when did he tell you that?”

“Almost three months ago.”

“Oh, you’re in trouble with your father.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Sansa… This might be a little out of the blue. But, I have known you for a long time, and I know that you are a good person. I’m not, but I’ll try if you’d be willing to marry me. I’d let you do anything you want, just we’d need to pretend to be a perfect couple from time to time.”

Another awkward pause. Sansa deliberated for a while, but realised Lannister was her way out. He was rich, good-looking and his offer seemed sweet.

“If I say yes, can we live far from your sister? I’ve heard you’re close, but I hate her.”

“We have a deal, Miss Stark.” He gave her a golden Lannister grin and kissed her hand.

 

Tywin Lannister was a bit awkward in the Stark household. He was shocked to hear Sansa Stark as an option, because she was notorious for rejecting suitors. Not to think about their age gap. Sipping some random juice, Tywin watched the shit fest unfold. Jaime gave a short speech about marriage and love and then got on one knee and proposed to Sansa.

And she said yes.

At first, the room was shocked, but then they started clapping.

“What the hell has just happened?” Whispered Arya.

“Sansa is engaged to my boss.” Whispered Jon.

“Does that mean a better pay check?”

“Kill me now.”

In the next days, in the local newspapers, for “Upcoming nuptials” a new passage appeared.

“Mr Jaime T. Lannister and Miss Sansa M. Stark are engaged to be married next Spring. Both families are delighted with the news.”

Underneath was a photograph of the happy couple. Sansa was clad in a high collared, lacy dress, with long, billowing sleeves, while Jaime wore a nice suit. To be honest, they looked like any engaged couple. Except if you count that they had no feelings for each other and both were mourning somebody else. Margaery and Sansa grew a bit distant, there was a faint anger between them, while Jaime avoided Cersei at every cost. The mother of four filled her days with shopping and being quiet. Robert paid no attention, as he had other interests and worries.

The reactions to the engagement were mixed, the entire Stark household was confused. Robb didn’t want to comment on it, Arya decided to be supportive, Jon was probably confused the most, Ned was distant on the matter and Catelyn was happy for her daughter, since the vile rumours about her stopped. And Jaime and Sansa? They were both glad they found a way out, yet still, on the verge to call it off, but there was a wedding to be planned, a dress to me made, guests to be invited…

So now, Sansa was moved to Lyanna’s house in order to make a wedding dress. The older woman took her niece’s measurements, cutting everything to fit her perfectly. They sat down to work on a design, thousands of sketches piled on the floor.

After the settled for the design, Lyanna waved her niece goodbye who had so much planning to do.

 

Things rarely looked good for Euron Greyjoy, bit they looked especially bad for him today. First, his idiotic brother had resigned as mayor, causing an emergency vote. Second, the candidates were some people he could bribe and blackmail, but one of them was none other than Aerys Targaryen, who had a good chance to win, more money than Euron and honestly, no dirt on him. Third, whoever the alcohol dealer was, was ruining his own business. Fourth, his idiotic nephew managed to lose an engagement to a Stark girl and therefore, her dowry. Fifth, a serial killer has been ruining everything. Euron Greyjoy was in a terrible mood and he could feel that someone was about to die. Then, one of his workers came up, who was supposed to be investigating the mysterious dealer.

“Green, you better have good news for me.”

Green looked down.

“No boss, I don’t have any good news.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

Euron pulled out a gun and shot Green eight times. He threw the gun behind his back and returned to the paperwork he was handling. Green hit the floor, bleeding all over it. The gunshots alerted his crew, who ran to the office to spot a bleeding Green on the floor. Ramsay whistled loudly, and pointed at the men to remove the corpse.

“Bad day, huh?”

“Yes.” Euron stood quietly in his office for a while, before he turned to Ramsay.

“Bolton, I have a new task for you. Find the Dragon dealer. And then kill him.”

Ramsay gulped.

“Very well.”

Bolton left the room, fear crawling into his soul. The Dragon has never been caught. Whoever he was, he was good, and no one knew his face. Ramsay knew, if he screwed this one up, he’d be toast, his corpse would be found hanging in front of his father’s house. Before he was able to leave the building, someone raced behind him and tapped his shoulder. Ramsay turned around and followed the man back to Euron’s office. The man the called Crowseye had another task for him.

“Before you find the Dragon, I want you to kill my brother. Take him down the old fashion way, out of a car. In broad daylight.”

Ramsay nodded.

“Which one, you have three?”

“The one who disappointed me the most. Victarion.”

Ramsay was no stranger to killing brothers. He killed his own when he was seven years old and no one even noticed. The beauty of it all was that his brother, or half-brother was in fact, his father’s favourite. It was so nice to see his father suffer and mourn his favourite. Ramsay looked back with fondness at his childhood. For may happy memories to come.

 

The Lion and The Sun was full. The upstairs part, that is. The Baratheon’s, Stark’s and Lannister’s were having dinner, save for Jon Snow, Lyanna, Arya, Bran, Gendry and his younger siblings. The youngest person on the table was Sansa, who was showing her sapphire ring to her future brother-in-law. Tyrion nodded with approval, as the ring once had belonged to Joanna Lannister herself. The late wife of Tywin Lannister had received a lovely sapphire and diamond ring from her husband for a birthday, and left it to her children after her untimely death. Cersei wasn’t fond of blue stones, so the ring was left, untouched, for years. But right now, the night sky coloured ring was the only thing she wanted. It looked like a sore bump to her eyes, as it caught the candle light of the restaurant. Picking at the food, she ate very little, her mind racing to Jaime and then racing to her children.

“Well, this is our first wedding in a while. I can’t wait for a proper celebration. The reception will be here?”

“Yes, after the wedding in the Great Sept.”

Cersei wished to blow up that Sept.

“And who will be your best man?”

“Probably Tyrion, but Oberyn and Bronn would fight for that position too.”

“They can be groomsmen.” Said Catelyn, cutting into a trout.

“Sansa, how many bridesmaids are you planning?”

“Well, I thought Arya, Myrcella, if her parents agree, some of my Tully cousins and Margaery as Maid of Honour.”

“The more, the merrier!” Laughed Robert. Cersei could feel bile building up in her throat. Jaime barely knew the girl, he never mentioned her, and yet, there he was, sitting next to her, planning to marry her this Spring.

“How is your dress coming along, dear?” Asked Cersei through her teeth.

“Aunt Lyanna is on it day and night.”

“Be careful what you eat before your wedding day, dear.”

“If only I was that wise!” Laughed Robert, causing the entire table to follow him. They were interrupted by a man who raced into the restaurant, waving his arms and jumping up and down.

“He is back, another child has died!” The restaurant fell silent. Jaime shot a glare in Cersei’s direction.


	8. Everything And Nothing

Daenerys was clad in blue, her bright blue coat jumped out against the bleak crowd. Her hair was in a simple braid and she had a matching pillow hat on her head. It been a while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely. Walking next to her on the chilly streets, felt almost like a vacation. He wasn’t sure if he should refer to her as his girlfriend or as his friend, perhaps, they were something in between, not yet a couple, and too close to be friends. Their paces matching up, Daenerys’ sweet face right beside him. Jon wanted to hold her hand, but had to keep himself from that. Her face was slightly blushing, maybe from the winter, maybe from Jon Snow.

“How is life as the first daughter of the city?”

“Oh shut it. I have no official business. Just greeting governors from time to time.”

“Still. This what you wanted your entire life. Making a difference.”

“I don’t know if I am making one.”

They walked in silence for a little longer. They reached city hall, which had a nice park in front of it, with benches and usually flowers, but for now, it was covered with a thing layer of snow.

“I looked in your middle name.”

“And?”

“Found a small million of men named Arthur.”

“Oh dear. Well, that’s alright. Maybe I should give up.”

“You, with your stubbornness? Never.”

Jon was about to say something, but then he spotted Victarion Greyjoy walking up the stairs of city hall.

“Oh, look who is back.”

“What in the seven hells is he doing here?”

“Maybe he forgot something there?”

Dany shrugged. The couple looked up and then they heard a tire screech. Jon was the first one to spot a gunman peek out of the car with a machine gun. He tackled Dany immediately, landing them both in the cold snow. And they they heard the gunshots. The loud banging sound echoed through the park and Victarion’s body flayed and shook from the gunshots. He hit the floor, bleeding all over the stark white stairs of the building. Jon looked up a little first, still covering Dany’s body with his own, covering her face. Nothing what they’ve doing, Jon immediately got up and gave her a hand. Dany cleaned the snow from her body and wanted to take a look at the corpse, but Jon covered her eyes.

“You don’t need to see that, trust me.”

“I need too, Jon.”

She slowly removed his hand, seeing the bloody pile Victarion was now.

“How much money are you willing to bed they won’t solve this one?”

“A lot.”

Dany took Jon’s arm and they raced to her car before the police arrived. When, they got in, Dany tried to drive, but her hands were shaking, so they sat there, for a while. Dany finally started the engine and they went to Dragonstone. Now, Jon had always seen the building from a distance, but he never visited it. The castle was spacious, not gaudy like the Baratheon household, decorated with taste and elegance. There were many scale and dragon inspired decorations, revealing a long tradition of taste for expensive. Dany showed him to follow her upstairs, to her rooms. Dany’s bedroom was large, with marble floors and walls. She had a fireplace, a table and chair, a small drawing room, a closet and a bed. What surprised Jon the most were three fat cats, one was black, one white and one ginger. They were all asleep on the furniture and didn’t even move when Dany came in. She took off her coat and hat and threw it into a trunk. Still shaking a little, she threw herself on a couch. Jon took a seat across of her, watching the way her chest were rising up and down.

“Dany, who is your friend there?”

Jon turned around and spotted a woman who resembled Dany a lot, but older. He figured that that’s her mother.

“Oh hi Mum! This is Jon. Jon, meet my mother, Rhaella.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Targaryen.”

“Likewise…?”

“Oh, I’m Jon Stark.”

“Ned’s son?”

“You know my father?”

“Of course I know Ned, I went with him to school.”

Jon and Dany looked at each other in surprise.

“Of course, Ned was at the time, a sweet and shy boy. His brother was much more outgoing, but I loved spending time with both. Your Uncle Brandon was a wild one. He was all over the place, breaking hearts left and right. And Ned… I remember he had a crush on a girl.”

“What girl?”

“Her name was… Ashara. Yes, it was Ashara Dayne! Ashara had a younger brother named Arthur, who is good friends with Rhaegar.”

Jon and Dany looked at each other in horror.

“Do you remember anything about Ashara?”

“Absolutely not. Maybe Elia can tell you more, they were neighbours after all.”

“Thank you, Mum.”

“Oh yes, Jon, I recommend spending the night here, because the police is all over the city. Someone has been assasinated in broad daylight.”

“Where is the rest of our family?”

“Rhaegar and Elia are at the Martell’s and Dad is in City Hall. He is staying the night there.”

Rhaella left the room, leaving the young pair shocked. Night fell, and Jon joined them for dinner. Dany and Jon were quietly observing Rhaella, who perhaps knew who Jon’s mother is, but was unaware of it. The Targaryen matriarch was concerned with her chicken, so Dany decided to tell her the truth what happened today.

“Mum, we were actually close today to the shooting…”

“Goodness gracious! Why didn’t you tell me to get you?”

“I managed. I was scared a little.”

“And you looked after her?”

Jon nodded.

“Thank you. I know she doesn’t need it, but thank you again.”

The woman observed her daughter and the man across her. They exchanged looks, brief, but somehow significant, as if they knew something no one else did. But Rhaella knew those looks, only exchanged by lovers. She wasn’t sure if Jon Snow was her daughter’s lover, but there was something between them.

After dinner, they moved to the drawing room where Rhaella enjoyed some green tea and watched the police force roam the streets through the windows. Jon and Dany exchanged tired looks, both ready to go to bed, so Rhaella instructed a maid to prepare the guest room for Jon.

Lying abed in the spacious room, Jon felt a sudden bolt of energy strike him, as if he was ready to conquer the world. Getting up, he rummaged through the room, as if he was looking for something. He opened the double door and walked down the dark corridor. Tapping lightly on Dany’s door, somehow hesitant, he inhaled deeply and knocked stronger this time. And she opened it almost immediately. Dany was standing there, hair loose, silvery curtains flowing down her back. She wore a thing camisole, the same colour as her blushing cheeks. She let her hand down and Jon entered the room and closed it behind him, leaning on it at first. And then he took a few steps toward her, it felt like a magnet was pulling her to him. And then they kissed, but it didn’t feel as chaste as before. In one, swift moment, he pinned her against the door, kissing her ferociously, cupping her checks. When they finally split, Daenerys noticed that his leg was between hers.

“Daenerys, have you ever done this before?” Asked Jon huskily, the way he said her name made her heart stop.

“Yes, you?”

“Yes.”

At first, it was all hot and rushed, Dany undid the buttons of Jon’s shirt, throwing it on the ground. She was toying with his belt, the buckle soon undone. He pulled at the hem of her camisole, pulling it up. Dany rose her arms and he pulled it over her, leaving her naked in the cool, winter air. Dany stood in front of him, proud and naked, as beautiful as he could imagine her. His breathing became rugged again and she tackled him on the bed, falling between the pillows. Jon was naked too, soon, never breaking contact with her. There was an unimaginable excitement about taking one’s clothes off for the first time, or feeling someone’s entire skin for the first time, or making love to someone for the first time.

Among touches and moans, Jon gathered himself and noticed that Dany was leaving kisses along his neck, so he grabbed her and flipped her, and now he was on top. Entering her in one deep thrust, they both moaned, but tried to keep quiet. Jon could already feel her nails in his back, the soft movement of her body, her fast breathing. Jon rose his head, looking at her. Daenerys’ eyes flickered over his face, his deep eyes were hooded and somehow wide open, lower lip trembling. There was a bit more than just attraction between them.

They fell asleep entangled, two bodies intertwined.

In the morning, Jon woke up first, or so he thought. Dany was already awake, leaning against his shoulder. She turned her head and looked at him, pressing a kiss on his nose.

“Jon, as much as I want to stay forever, we need to get up.”

“Do we?”

She got up, picked up her camisole and pulled it on her body.

“Business as usual.”

Jon fell again on the bed, shaking his head. He sneaked out of the room, carefully going to the guest room and showering before joining Daenerys and her mother at breakfast. Rhaella was quietly sipping tea, going through the newspaper with some serial killer headline plastered all over it.

“Good morning you two, how did you sleep?”

“It was alright.”

Rhaella looked at them underneath her glasses, nodding. She put the newspaper down and took a croissant out of the pastry pile, spreading some butter and jam on it. Dany quietly drank her milk.

“How was the room, Jon?”

“Very good, Mrs Targaryen. Thank you.”

“I know, I decorated it with Dany years ago. No wonder it’s the prettiest room of the house.”

Dany nearly chocked on her milk because she knew that she only participated in the decoration of her own room.

 

Littlefinger’s main reason of breathing was to ruin other people’s lives. And right now, he was on his way to annoy the living hell out of Ned Stark. The idea was to drop the information they might become brothers-in-law, then ask about his daughter’s engagement to Jaime Lannister, and then pester him about the lovely rumour passed around his girls, that a prostitute might have been the mother of his bastard. And maybe mention that he knows that the before mentioned son was working in an illegal bar owned by his future son-in-law where his two eldest children would drink occasionaly. Entering the office, he gave the Stark patriarch his best fake smile and sat down across of him.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Eddard.”

“I suppose.” The man kept working on whatever he was fixated on.

“Congratulations on the engagement. Jaime Lannister will be a fine son-in-law.”

“If he makes Sansa happy, that is all I ask for.”

“True, very true. How is your family?”

“Cat is, of course, happy, the children are doing just fine and we are all busy planning a big wedding.”

“Why of course. And how is young Jon?”

“My son is doing well, thank you.”

Ned didn’t even look at him.

“Have you heard what happened to Victarion Greyjoy? A terrible tragedy.”

“It is, indeed.”

“But what’s coming can be a good opportunity.”

“And what is coming, Baelish?”

“Chaos. Pure chaos.”

“I have no use from chaos. My family is secure, and at the end of the day, that matters the most.”

“Chaos is a ladder. Perhaps we can climb it, together.!

“I have no interest in your scams, Littlefinger. Leave my privy.”

Annoyed, Littlefinger left the room. His revenge on Eddard Stark has just begun. The man will get what is coming for him, for taking Catelyn, for what is dead brother had done to a younger Petyr, to everything. On his way out, he spotted a woman with long, red hair, dressed in a dark purple coat. For a moment, he thought that’s Catelyn Tully, but the woman turned around to reveal a much younger face. It was her daughter, Sansa. Littlefinger recalled the summers he spent with the Tully’s, and how radiant Catelyn was. Just as her daughter is now. Young Sansa looked over her shoulder, to spot Jaime Lannister walking over. Before the Lannister came close to Sansa, Littlefinger approached her and kissed her hand. Sansa remembered Littlefinger from her childhood, always the creepy man among the shadows.

“Miss Stark, it’s been a while.”

“Mr Baelish… “

Sansa felt the urge to step away, something in the pit of her stomach told her to run.

“I have to congratulate you on the engagement to Mr Lannister.”

“Thank you.”

Jaime came up behind Sansa, scaring Littlefinger. It reminded him all too well of a certain man and the woman that once had held his heart. Lannister offered an arm to Sansa and she took it, gladly.

“Baelish, what are you doing here?”

“Visiting my dear friend, Eddard.”

“I wasn’t aware that you two are friends.”

Sansa knew they weren’t. The couple waved him off and went into the building where the Stark patriarch was. When Littlefinger arrived at his brothel, he was greeted with unpleasant news. Euron Greyjoy had been there, infected some of his girls with syphilis. Of course, his payment was terrible and now he infected the girls? Littlefinger knew what he had to do, just throw them out into the streets. With the iciness he always had, he told the girls to pack up their belongings and go. He had better things to worry about.

 

In the early hours of the morning, Cersei was knocking on her children’s room’s doors, in order to wake them up for school. Myrcella and Tommen were ready soon enough, already waiting for the chauffeur, waiting for him to drive them to school. But, Joffrey was nowhere to be seen. She entered his room, which was washed in darkness, the smell of sweat stung her in the eyes. She opened the windows immediately, letting the cool winter air in. Joffrey was lying in the bed, he was sweating and coughing, with little bloodstains on his upper lip. Screaming, she raced to get some water and call in a physician to look at her boy. She woke Robert and Gendry, the first one being disgruntled and the other one concerned. The physician arrived half an hour later, and looked at Joffrey. Qyburn had been their family doctor for years, so he checked the boy, measuring his fever, pulling his lids, quiet and nodding all the time.

“His immunity is weak, Mrs Baratheon, nothing to worry about. I will prescribe him medicine and I will recommend some elderflower tea, so that he grows stronger, and bed rest until the end of the week.”

“And the nosebleed?”

“From the nigh fever. Happens sometimes.”

Still concerned, Cersei checked Joffrey’s forehead.

“If the fever doesn’t get easier, call me again. No problem.”

Qyburn left, leaving the concerned mother on the doorstep.

“See? He has just a fever, you didn’t have to rise the entire house.”

Cersei turned around sharply, looking at Robert.

“He is your son, too. I swear to the gods, Robert, I there wasn’t for me, the children would be dead. Dead I tell you!”

She walked upstairs, making a loud sound. Entering Joffrey’s room, she knelt down next to him and held his hand. He was asleep. She stayed there, for hours, almost falling asleep, until she felt a light tap on the shoulder, and turned around to see Gendry looking at her.

“Mum, you need to get up, please. You’ve been here for hours, I’ll look after him. Is that alright?”  
Cersei looked at Joffrey again.

“Okay.”

Gendry gave her a hand and helped her to her room. He checked his little brother’s forehead. It was still warm. Gendry woke him up and gave him some medicine. He noticed that Joff’s fingernails were a darker, purple colour. It all looked a little strange, as if he came in contact with a nasty poison.

“Joff, have you eaten something strange recently?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“Your fingernails are dark, so unless Myrcella painted them, I have no idea why.”

He looked at them and shrugged.

“Maybe I touched something in the forest.”

“You in the forest? You hate parks, let alone forests.”

“I pass there sometimes.”

“Anyway, don’t go there. Children died in that same forest in the past months. Stay safe.”

Gendry ruffled his hair and Joffrey didn’t even crack a smile. He just took the medicine and went back to bed.

 

Jon and Dany were taking another stroll around the city, this time their arms were looped together. Jon was catching little glimpses of her, watching her, trying to soak in this new reality.

“What are you looking at, Jon Snow?”

“You. Only you.”

Daenerys almost never blushed.

“I think I love you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

“I love you too, Jon Snow.”

“And someday, I hope we can be together for a long time.”

“There is something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

She stopped, looking at him. Jon turned to her, holding her hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t have children.”

“And who told you that?”

“A doctor that checked me a few years ago. He said that the chances are nearly impossible.”

“Has it occurred to you that he might have been wrong?”

She smiled.

“We’ll talk about that later, Jon Snow.”

“Do you want them?”

“Yes.”

“Then you shall have them.”

Daenerys leaned against him, walking to the farmer’s market, to buy some supplies for Lyanna.

“She needs jasmine tea and buttons for Sansa’s wedding dress.”

“Oh, I have to ask, what the hell?”

“I know, I was shocked too, I wasn’t even aware they knew each other.”

“And now they’re getting married.”

“I know, Sansa seems happy and he is finally settling down, so it all makes sense. Or does it?”

Daenerys laughed.

“I wish I could tell.”

“If Sansa was unhappy with him, she would have said something?”

“Perhaps, it’s all just out of the blue.”

“Anyway, what did Lyanna ask for?”

“Some plain buttons, ones with the little hooks at the end.”

“Ah, I know what does look like, I’ll help you.”

As they waited for the clerk in the shop to pack the buttons, they talked about future plans and the upcoming wedding.

“What does the dress look like?”

“I’ve only seen a shit ton of lace all over the house.”

They arrived at the Stark household soon, but Jon was shocked to see Catelyn in the garden, playing with Grey Wind and Nym.

“Shit, that’s my step-mother. Just walk in casually and pretend you’re supposed to live here.”

“Okay?”

Catelyn threw a stick and Nym caught it, but Grey Wind thought it belonged to him. And then Ghost raced in and it all turned into a big fight.

Jon whistled and Ghost walked over to his leg and licked Dany, landing next to Jon’s feet.

“Hello, Jon. Who is your friend?” She asked blankly.

“This is Daenerys.”

“Targaryen?”

Dany nodded.

“I knew your father, Miss Targaryen. And you’re visiting us on his behalf?”

“I’m actually here to see Lyanna Stark, for a dress.”

“Oh, carry on then. It was nice meeting you.”

They went to Lyanna’s house, in quiet, but Dany had to say something.

“She seems cold.”

“If only you were wrong...”


	9. Last Preparations

Jaime felt like a flower, fussing over colours of walls and carpets, but getting married required neat home, which his bachelor floor truly didn’t have. So, he sold the old flat he used to live at and was renovating the Casterly Rock estate, where he grew up. It felt strange to imagine that his own children will grow up here, someday. That is, if his future wife is willing to have some. He wasn’t necessary attracted to Sansa, but she was a sweet girl and kind person. He didn’t have many requirements for a wife, except maybe a companion and someone to walk in public with. They’d think about the rest later. The new colour of the master bedroom was a deep, dark burgundy, making the room a bit ominous, giving it a slight Gothic sheen, but Jaime didn’t mind. His own father relocated to the left wing, leaving Sansa and Jaime in the right wing. So Tyrion and Tywin would now live in the same wing. Of course, with a house that large, they’d only eat together occasionaly, but he and Sansa had a honeymoon to attend first, somewhere in the Summer Isles. Jaime wondered how the hell that will go. The only woman he had been with in these past years was his own sister.

Their relationship started out when they were young, somehow always closer than normal siblings, but their blind father never noticed. He had girlfriends, Cersei always throwing jealous fits. So he stopped, dedicating all his attention to her, loving her and caring for her. And then Robert Baratheon came along. Cersei was swept away first, but as the years progressed, she returned to her Jaime.

Always together, never apart, connected by the hip. Until now. Now, Jaime was moving past what he knew about her and her monster spawn. Their monster spawn. Joffrey was his, he knew that all too well. When the boy was born, he was very pale, they almost thought he wouldn’t make it. But he did, and now he was taking the lives of innocent children. The only relief was that he knew the boy didn’t kill anyone in recent times. He learned from his father that Joffrey had been ill this week, but didn’t bother to visit him.

He heard a knock on the door, seeing Bronn and Oberyn get in, carrying potted plants and a carpet.

“What the hell?”

“For you, you fussy wife.”

“Oh shut up, Bronn, that joke isn’t even funny.”

“How do you like your future housing?”

“It’s too far away from work, but I’ll get used to it. Bronn, a piece of advice, don’t get married, it takes too much work.”

“The married life does me well. I love my girls.”

“Oh, how is the missus? We haven’t seen her in a long time.” Said Bronn, staring at the deep burgundy.

“Ellaria is just fine, busy with our girls.”

“Lannister, you need to change this colour, it looks like a bloody brothel.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bronn!” Jaime put the plant down and Oberyn laughed loudly, throwing the carpet on the floor. He took a seat on the chair covered with a white sheet, looking around.

“I think it looks lovely. Speaking of brothels, our dear guest Petyr Baelish had a syphilis outbreak recently.”

“Disgusting.” Bronn, shook his head, taking a seat next to Oberyn.

“How did he handle it?”

“He threw them out.”

“Disgusting.” Jaime shook his head. Oberyn changed the topic.

“Anyway, we need a third bartender. We’ve been needing him for months.”

“What if we hire a girl?” Argued Bronn.

“I won’t expose a girl to a danger like that. And we need better security for the club. We had 6 fights this week.” Jaime crossed his arms in defiance.

“True. Very true. Maybe we should let our lads find him.” Oberyn had to agree.

“Have you seen how Jon and Daenerys are fucking?” Said Bronn casually.

The two men looked at him in shock.

“What did you just say?”

“Jon and Daenerys have been fucking. You can tell. She looks at him like he’s a meal and he has almost a hard on when he talks to her.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Our Jon, with Daenerys Targaryen?” Jaime was now in disbelief.

“Yes, none other. I saw them walk around like love birds around the city a few days ago. Disgusting.”

Oberyn was holding his head in shock.

“I need to process this one.” Answered Oberyn. “That’s my sister-in-law. She was a bridesmaid at Elia’s wedding. I’ve known her since she was 13. And now, she is with Jon Snow? There is nothing wrong with Jon, it’s just a lot to process.”

“Why? They’re young and good-looking, let them fuck.”

The group nodded, still in shock. Oberyn decided to change the topic, for their sanity.

“How long until the wedding?”

“5 weeks. 3 weeks until this place is done, 2 weeks for her to move in, and then it’s the wedding.”

“And then you are a serious man.” Nodded Bronn.

“You do remember that the reception is in the restaurant, right?”

“Is it?”

Oberyn laughed out loud.

“This will take some adjustment, my dear friend. Remember those white tablecloths and other decorations we had delivered recently?”

“Oh, now it makes sense.”

 

Sansa stood in her Aunt’s attelier, as the woman adjusted the final details on her wedding dress. The dress was very long, with a A line bottom. It was all covered with a unique, leaf patterned lace. It had short, almost cap sleeves and a high collar. In the back, it had a key hole opening, making it more youthful. Her wedding veil was white and simple, with some sheen to it. It would be pulled over her face on the big day. Another detail was a gift from her mother, a leaf shaped necklace, that Lyanna skilfully crafted into a headband, to be worn along with the veil. Sansa now felt a surge of excitement, almost as if the dress fixed her mood. She knew the feeling would wear off soon, but she had to enjoy it as long as she could. Her bridesmaids all wore similar, simple, light blue dresses, with bows in the back, along with wreaths of baby’s breath. And Margaery, future Maid of Honour was clad in a silky, blue dress. The dress had a V neck collar, was bellow the knees and paired with a matching blue hat. Marge looked like a vision. Yet the distance between them remained. Catelyn clasped her hands.

“Lyanna, you truly outdid yourself. Sansa looks absolutely stunning.”

Sansa gave her mother a soft smile. If only she new.

“Thank you, Mum.”

“A vision in white. Oh, the pictures will look beautiful! Margaery, what do you think, darling?”

The brunette nodded, looking Sansa up and down.

“I think she looks stunning.”

Sansa gave her a sad look.

Lyanna walked behind Sansa, spreading the long skirt, making sure everything fits properly. Arya was standing next to her sister, looking disgruntled in her blue dress. She looked almost as if she was ready to tear it apart.

“Five more weeks and you are getting married. How does it feel?”

“Surreal.” Answered Sansa, looking over to Margaery, who didn’t even give her a look back.

“Will you do your own make up?” Asked Lyanna, packing up the dresses.

“Yes, of course.”

The woman nodded, packing her equipment.

“The dress will be stored in the house, I’ll cover it with lining. And what of the venue.”

“Jaime said he’d take care of everything, since it’s at his restaurant.”

“Yes, of course. Very noble of him.”

Lyanna rummaged through the rest of the room, pulling out Catelyn’s dress and the suits she adjusted for Ned and the boys.

“Who is Robb taking as a date?”

“I have no idea, I haven’t asked him and I don’t have the strength to handle that since the last incidents.” Answered Catelyn. Arya laughed a little, remembering all of Robb’s conquests.

“Is Jon taking anyone?” Asked Sansa, calculating which of her brothers actually dated someone.

Lyanna and Sansa exchanged knowing looks. Since she was little, Arya had a habit of sleeping in Lyanna’s house, where the three of them used to play board games, exchange stories, talk about everything. Arya always felt like Lyanna and Jon were closer to her than her actual family. Maybe it was because they shared the Stark look, or because their personalities were very alike, maybe even because they never run out of topics… Times have changed, of course, but the happy trio was always together. And last night, Arya and Lyanna watched Jon Snow make out with a girl from a window.

“I wouldn’t know.” Said Arya.

“Me too.” Answered Lyanna, nodding.

 

As for now, Jon Snow was entangled with his lover. Kissing Dany’s warm skin, he moved her hair from her shoulder, planting soft kisses there. She smiled sweetly, slowly falling asleep. This was everything that Jon Snow wanted in life, he realised. Daenerys and peace. One look from those lilac eyes and Jon knew he couldn’t deny her anything. Daenerys clutched him tighter, holding his head on her chest. They stayed like that until they heard noises downstairs. Jumping up, they both dressed immediately and walked downstairs in the living room, pretending to be drinking tea. Arya and Lyanna were used to the view, but Sansa, who accompanied them this time, certainly wasn’t. Shocked, she stood in the door frame, watching Daenerys and Jon talk. 

“Hi.” Was the only thing she was able to mutter. After an awkward introduction, the small company discussing the upcoming nuptials.

“I was very surprised when Jaime told me he’s getting married. He never seemed like the one to settle down.”

“You know...” Sansa swallowed as she said this.”My future husband?”

“We work together somewhat.”

“She knows about the bar, Dany.”

“Oh, very well then. I’m the booze guy.”

Sansa rose her brows.

“Never in a million years I would have guessed it’s you.”

“I’ve heard that once or twice.”

“How…?”

“Oberyn is my brother-in-law. And I overheard him one day talking about a bar and I had the alcohol so it all worked out. I made a small fortune off this business.”

“I see.”

“And what have you been doing at the bar?”

“I ventured there with Margaery and her brother and his friend.”

“Loras and Renly?”

“Yes.”

Jon and Dany looked at each other and nodded.

“And you two, are like… dating?”

They both went silent.

“Yes.” Answered Jon.

Arya was standing on the door now.

“It’s nice to hear you admitting it.”

“You knew about this?”

“Well, you were a bit wrapped up in that wedding of yours, Carrot.”

Arya hopped in on the couch next to Sansa, stretching. Lyanna came in soon after, placing a plate of cookies in front of them. Robb arrived soon and the small group begun to chat, Lyanna feeling happier because she liked to have her nieces and nephews around her. In truth, she was very lonely sometimes, her main company were Jon and Arya. She was never alone, but she’d get lonely. Robb opened the night by discussing the wedding and the party.

“I’m going to fucking embarrass you, Sansa. Get ready.”

“Try me, Robbie.”

Sansa wanted to talk about everything but the wedding.

“So, how did you two hit it off?”

“Actually, I’m interested too, since Jon is always tongue-tied around ladies, it’s a shame sometimes.”

Jon rolled his eyes and Dany smiled. This all felt a little unfamiliar. Her siblings weren’t close. But this felt like a small company of people, a happy family where she could see herself.

“How is Gendry?” Asked Arya.

“Yes, how is Gendry?” Backed Lyanna. Arya stuck out her tongue.

“You know what? Let’s call in the poor fucker.”

Jon got up and phoned Gendry. Of course, it will take some time until he reaches them, but they will have fun without him. Lyanna wanted to pull out the board games, but there were too many of them. This left a happy feeling in her heart.

“Maybe we can play “Guess who?” You know the rules, right?”

“I wish we could play some music too.”

“Oh well.” Lyanna pulled out the old record player and some records and turned it on. The music of her teenage years blasted in the room and everyone hooray-ed. Soon came young Gendry, hiding something underneath his jacket. A bottle of cognac and a pack of cigarettes. Lyanna shook her head but opened the bottle and got glasses for everyone.

“Just a little

When I see you

Just a little

I would a little

Look at you”

The lyrics made zero sense, but the room was full of smokes and booze and laughter. They were playing guess who, with some bands and old paper Lyanna found.

“Well damn it, Sansa, am I a man or a woman?” Asked Robb annoyed.

“You tell me.”

“Fucking hell!” Laughed Robb, sipping the cognac. Arya pushed his shoulder, laughing.

“Okay, Arya, my turn to ask.” Said Gendry. What Arya picked, was the word bull. So Gendry sat there, with a floral band around his head, with the word bull on it.

“Am I male?”

“Yes.”

“Am I famous?”

“Depends in which circles.”

“Okay… Am I an actor?”

“No.”

“A musician?”

“No.”

After 20 minutes, Gendry run out of professions.

“Damn it, I give up.”

“You are a stupid bull.” He pulled down the band and everyone laughed out loud. 

“A bull? I am… A stag! It’s on our company crest! We, we Baratheon men, we leave women with a burning sensation...”

Arya slapped her forehead.

“Let me rephrase this...”

It was 4 AM and Catelyn Stark couldn’t sleep. Why? Because her sister-in-law was throwing a bloody party. Dressed in her periwinkle robe, she strutted across the yard. Thankfully, Daenerys was by the widow and saw her walking around. She signalled to everyone and she hid behind the couch with Gendry. Lyanna immediately pulled out some materials, Robb opened the windows, Arya hid the bottle, Sansa sprayed perfume over the room and Jon fixed Lyanna’s machine. They all sat down on the couches, except for Lyanna and Sansa who took places at the table.

“What in the world are you thinking with this noise!” Shouted Catelyn. Robb immediately got up and explained everything to his mother.

“Mum, Aunt Lyanna was just working on a lovely project, and I suggested that we play some music. You know, to lighten the mood. Sorry.”

“I could have sworn there was a crowd here.”

“It’s just us, Mum.” Smiled Sansa sweetly.

Catelyn left, disgruntled.

Gendry and Dany came out behind the couch, laughing. The entire group started giggling, talking about being caught like dumb teenagers.

“You know this reminds me of the old times. Back when Branny was still alive, we’d throw wild parties here and get drunk… And then he died. And the prohibition came. Times changed I guess. I do miss it. Bobby, before he lost his damn mind, Ned, Branny, Ben, Asha, Artie, Cat, Ella… It feels like a lifetime ago.” Smiled Lyanna.

 

Melisandre kissed her dear Stannis goodbye and she left for her destination. As Stannis was ready to go to the police station, he offered to drive Mel, and she gladly accepted. The drive was long and quiet.

“Are you sure you want me to drop you off here?” It was a rough neighbourhood by the harbour.

“Yes, this is where my client lives.”

“It’s amazing that you can make a living out of telling other people’s fortune. You’re just that good, huh?”

She nodded.

“You’re got at many things, love.” He kissed her and she climbed out of the car, leaving Stannis to go to work.

Melisandre knocked three times on the door of the broken, yellow house. A man opened the door and she climbed upstairs, knowing the way. Inside the bedroom that is now an office, resided Euron Greyjoy, rummaging through a bloody body bag, looking through some body parts.

“I see you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, Greyjoy.”

“Madame Melisandre. Always a pleasure.”

Yes, fortune telling was a part of Mel’s work. Not that she was good at it, but being a dominatrix certainly did help. Mel placed a pile on the desk, trying to ignore the guts and gore Euron was working with. The smell was what putt her off the most. Mixed with tobacco, sweat and the stench of disease, Mel pressed a tissue on her face.

“Don’t you have dogs to do that?”

“Sometimes, I like to do it myself, to remember where I begun. We also caught and dismembered a son of a man that owed us money, so we’re sending him to his papa.” He pulled out a heart and something that resembled a liver. “Part by part.”

“I see. Here are the photographs.”

The photographs were even too much for Euron Greyjoy. They were Stannis Baratheon, gagged and bound, during sex. Euron almost puked on the bloody carpet. Baratheon, in various poses, states and expressions.

“This is gross. But good job, Madame. If only my other workers were this good.”

“Thank you, I try.”

“It’s nice to hold Stannis Baratheon by the balls. I mean you did, you brave, brave woman.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He handed her an envelope.

“As promised, Madame.”

“Thank you.”

This was the beginning of the end of Stannis Baratheon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus those photographs were hard to write I actually gagged. THIS IS WHY THIS HAS A LOT OF WARNINGS


	10. Nuptials

Ned Stark hated giving lectures to his children. Robb, his eldest, was giving him a hard time. His latest conquests drove the family to insanity and he was neglecting his work in the process. And Eddard Stark had his work ethics. Robb’s head was planted on the desk, listening to his father’s critiques.

“Robb, I don’t know how else to put this, but I believe our current regime will have to change.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“I expect nothing of you. I want you to learn form you mistakes and calm down. You are young, it is expected of you to make mistakes, but you need to utilize them for something good. My advice for now is to settle a little, cool off. The Stark’s usually have ice in their veins. I don’t know why you are so hot-headed.”

Robb shrugged. Maybe it was just a phase.

“I’ll correct my behaviour. I promise.”

“Don’t give promises you cannot uphold. Words lose their meanings.”

Robb left his father’s privy, guilt washing him all over. His thoughts were interrupted by a group of men carrying large trunks out of the house, followed by Sansa and Catelyn.

“What is this, a sale?”

“I’m moving out, you idiot. These are my clothes and a dowry.”

And then it hit him. His little sister is getting married in two days. It all felt a bit off, as if everyone was moving forward, and Robb was staying in his spot, not moving at all.

Sansa watched the last trunk being put into a trunk. Taking her purse, she entered a car with her mother and drove to her future house. Sansa saw Casterly Rock twice since her engagement. It was nice enough, but she knew it could never be her home. There, was her future husband, waiting for her to inspect the house she will live in now. Casterly Rock was spacious, a palace almost. There were many portraits and fine arts in the house, it was decorated with all sorts of decorations, fine arts, all in shades of reds, golds and browns. Sansa kept thinking about her own lavender walls. Jaime showed her everything, but Sansa had an important question to ask. Since her mother and Tywin went to inspect the dining rooms where the wedding breakfast will be held, Sansa pulled Jaime to a settee next to her, to talk.

“I need to ask about our… sleeping arrangements.”

“There is a master bedroom, we will only be expected to stay there the first night and when we have guests staying over. Otherwise, you can pick any bedroom you want.”

She nodded.

“I have one more question.”

“Sure.”  
“I have a dog, a husky named Lady, she’s my companion. I’d love for Lady to live here, with us.”

“You have a dog?” Asked Jaime, excited.

“Yes, you’ll meet her after the Summer isles. You’ll see, she’s very sweet.”

“There are some rules we need to go through, then.”

“Okay.”

“First, we have to tell each other where we are...”

“Why?”

“Sansa, if we’re going to take trips, we need to have our stories synced, otherwise, some people will start suspecting. It’ important that we put up a façade when we are in public, but in this house, do as you please.”

“You have been nothing but kind to me since this all started. I can live with that.”

“Good. I’m glad we have a deal.”

Sansa wondered if her future life will always consist of deals.

 

Jon knew now that Dany was the one supplying alcohol, but he never thought about where it all came from. So, entering the warehouse with Dany, was a soul trip almost. First, they entered something that looked like a toy storage, which confused Jon. But Dany led him to an elevator and pressed the button for down. She walked down slowly across the dark corridors, Jon following her. First, they encountered the two tales t people Jon ever laid eyes on. The woman had short, light blonde hair and blue eyes and monster height. She was busy counting some money and placing orders on notes. The man, with a face half burned, sat across her, half asleep. When they saw their boss, they immediately rose, greeting the woman.

“Hello, Miss Targaryen. How is everything going today?”

“Everything is perfect, Brienne. What are you two up to today?

“We have a late payment, Miss.” Spat out the man.

“Jon, this is Brienne van Tarth and this is Sandor Clegane, there are my… help.”

Brienne nodded.

“The Hound and I will handle it, but just so you know.”

“Of course, if you need anything, let me know.”

The pair walked along the units, with stashes and stashes of booze. Jon recognised everything from the bar. The most popular wines, cognac, vodka, the fruit liquors… It looked like a trip through inventory. Daenerys led him to an office space, where a young woman with dark, curly hair worked. She was working herself through some bills, but at the sight of Daenerys and the man, she got up.

“Miss Targaryen.”

“Missandei, this Jon Snow. Or Stark. Whatever you want to call him.”

Jon waved to Missandei and took a seat across Dany’s table.

“So, what do you do all day?”

“Wait for shipments and transport the same shipments. Always during the night, but at day, we handle paperwork and orders.”  
“And for how long have you been on this journey?”

“I’d say… It’s been 3 years.”

“Damn. And how much have you made?”  
Missandei cued in.

“It’s an eight-number digit.”

Dany closed her eyes.

“So your personal wealth rivals the one of your own family now, huh?”

“Somewhat yes.”

“I should have worked for you, instead of Jaime, Oberyn and Bronn.”

“Well, why would you work for them anyway? Your father’s company will need you eventually.”

Jon paused.

“I wanted to do something on my own, for my own life. I have always felt a gap that whoever my mother was left, and I have always searched for something to do that has nothing to do with my family.”

Dany squeezed his hand, brushing her thumb over his upper hand. After the brief visit, she had to drop him off at work, but they talked about the upcoming nuptials.

“What are you wearing?”

“A dusty pink dress.”

“I can’t wait to see you in a rosy colour.”

“You’ll see. I think you’ll love my pastel edition.”

“I love you in any way, Dany.”

She gave her lover a kiss and left for his job.

On his way to work, he encountered Sam Tarly.

“Sam? It’s been ages. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just on job hunt.”

“Don’t you work at the pharmacy?”

“Yes, but Maester Aemon is retiring. I need a second job because I want to buy the pharmacy.”

“Oh, I see… Sam, would you consider becoming a bartender?”

“A what? Isn’t that illegal, now?”

“Maybe.”  
The two men looked at each other for a while. Sam stood there, contemplating.

“Is the payment good?”

“I’d say it’s not too bad.”

 

The wedding rehearsal dinner was trying to go smoothly, but something just wouldn’t allow people to enjoy the dinner. Maybe it was Lysa Arryn arriving with Littlefinger with a ring on her hand, maybe it was Cersei Lannister moaning about every single detail. Catelyn was shocked that the woman had the audacity to show up in white, to her own brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner. She noticed the iciness between the siblings, who were usually close and friendly. Too close if you ask some, but Catelyn always thought that there is no one closer to you than your twin. She was glad the family was there. Even Benjen came to see his niece wed. The Stark family, sitting on the bride’s side, was joined by the Targaryen’s on the left and the Arryn’s and Tully’s behind the dragon clan. On the groom’s side, the Baratheon’s and Lannister’s took their seats. Jaime thought it had been ages since he’d seen Uncle Kevan and his three sons. The Martell’s were on his side too, and the rest of the numerous guests was spread all around the large restaurant. The middle tables were moved to make place for a dance floor and a band.

Jon looked over at Dany’s table. They agreed to leave the chapel together tomorrow, perhaps as a sign of friendship and love among them. Or something entirely else.

Sansa went from a cold feet to a cold heart today. Her life as she knew it, would change forever. Now, she’d be a wife, and people will expect motherhood to follow, along with other things. She shivered, and the only person who noticed was her future husband. The Tyrell’s were late, as expected, but joined them still. It was all for show, perhaps. A display of wealth, throwing a wedding for nearly 400 guests, with a big band and an even bigger honeymoon.

Sansa wondered what will happen to her and Marge after this. The recent party at Lyanna’s reminded her of the lake house, where she and Marge used to play in as children. She recalled a large closet, with many shelves and departments that could easily be turned into rooms for their dolls. They made furniture out of little boxes and dresses out of tissues and played for hours, until Allerie or Loras would find them sleeping on the floor.

As they grew, dolls turned into cigarettes and closets into drunken parties until the early hours. And now, all that was left of it was the empty lake house.

Somehow, it felt like spring came for everyone, but the people in the room.

 

The Sept of Baelor was wide open, the doors ready to receive the guests. Everyone was ariving, gathering inside and taking their places. The Tyrell’s came first, for a change, with Margaery staying in front of the chapel, clad in blue, waiting for the bride. Soon, the Stark’s came, minus Ned and Sansa. Arya, in her bridesmaid dress, looked beyond annoyed. Catelyn was clad in a deep, emerald green, escorted by her eldest son, along with her two youngest boys. Brandon and Rickon were dressed in matching attires, holding hands, walking in front of their mother and brother. Jon Snow arrived last, looking where the Targaryen’s are. He spotted Rhaella and Daenerys, followed by two light haired men. Probably her brother and father. Dany was clad in soft pink, opposing her mother bright yellow. Her dress had a v neck, billowy sleeves, and she had a matching fascinator, with a rose on it. She looked like a dream. Jon entered the chapel and took his place, awaiting the groom’s party. Tywin walked in, followed by his daughter and her family. Robert Baratheon looked as if he was ready to burst out of his suit, his fat forehead glistening from sweat. He was followed by his wife, who was dressed in the deepest crimson shade, almost black, with a matching hat. She sat between her father and husband, her children following. Jon observed her children. Gendry was neatly dressed in his suit, all rosy and happy, with his dark hair and blue eyes. His younger brother, looked the exact opposite of him. Joffrey looked sickly and pale, as if he lost a lot of weight. Tommen was the ring bearer, so he took his place near the altar. Myrcella, wearing an identical dress to Arya’s stood outside with Margaery, waiting for the bride to arrive. The Martell’s, Doran, Oberyn and Ellaria, took their respective spots, joined by Bronn. Then, Jaime and Tyrion followed, dressed in morning suits like the rest of the men. Jaime’s suit was a dark grey, with lighter pants. He wore a dark blue tie, to match Sansa’s ring. Tyrion took his spot as best man and turned around, to hear the choir start to sing. Sansa was near.

The bride, face veiled, followed by her father left the car and took her place in front of the chapel, her two bridesmaids fixing her train and veil. The pretty lace of Sansa’s dress shone in the Spring sun and Ned offered her his arm. Sansa took it gladly, clutching her dad. The group walked into the Sept, with everyone already up and waiting for the bride. Ned and Sansa walked in the chapel, the soft singing of the children ringing through it.

“And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,  
And her ways are ways of gentleness and all her paths are peace.”

Sansa nodded her head at the guests, a polite way of greeting them. She arrived with her father and took the spot next to Jaime, her back to the crowd. If only she saw Cersei’s spiteful look. The Septon already begun the ceremony, reciting the prayers. Ned gently removed the wedding veil from Sansa’s face.

“Who is giving this woman to this man?”

Ned gently placed Sansa’s hand into Jaime’s, and the Septon bound them together. The white fabric formed a perfect knot, the man opening his hands in prayer.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

“The rings, please,.” Requested the Septon. Little Tommen opened the box and the new spouses exchanged rings.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

The kiss shared was a quick and soft peck, nothing too close or too special. They linked their arms together and left the Sept, followed by their friends and family, with loud claps and cheers. Oberyn, Bronn, Tyrion, Jon and Gendry threw petals and rice on them, along with other guests, the newlyweds racing through the white storm. Then, Sansa turned her back to the crowd and threw her bouquet to the unmarried women. Margaery caught it. On the entrance of the Sept, stood Dany, holding Jon’s hand behind her back. Jon swore the next time they leave the Sept holding hands, it will be at their own wedding.

Cersei felt bile gather in her throat. This was not the end.

At the reception, after the dances and the speeches, Margaery Tyrell was desperate for a drink. She was willing to give up her own family for just one drink. Roaming the halls, she found Sansa’s brother, Robb, leaning against the wall, rummaging through the pocket of his jacket.

Marge observed the tiny bottle he pulled out and approached him like a hunter it’s prey.

“Mind sharing?”

Robb looked her up and down.

“No.”

He slid down the wall, Margaery following him. They finished the bottle in no time, but Robb had a second one. The pair sat there, at their pity party, looking like they’ve been through hell. Margaery never noticed how handsome Robb is. He had beautiful, dark auburn hair, blue eyes and a jawline to die for. Their conversations grew bleaker and bleaker.

“Just fuck my life. I feel like I haven’t made any progress since birth.”

Margaery felt she’s been stuck in the same, comfortable spot for years.

“I feel like a fucking failure.”

“I understand you.”

Marge rubbed her hand over his knee, their eyes connecting. Soon, their lips met and they got up, making out in the dark, gloomy hallway. Marge knew where the bathroom door was, so she pushed the door open, leading Robb in. Sitting up on the counter between the two sinks, she spread her legs, inviting Robb to come closer. Their make out session grew hotter and hotter, and Robb felt her fumbling with his belt, trying to loosen it. Robb undid it himself and gathered Marge’s skirt up, pulling down her panties. She felt him inside of her sooner than she thought, letting out a loud moan. This felt like the appropriate revenge.

Tyrion Lannister was laughing with his brother and new sister-in-law, welcoming the young woman in the family.

“I hope that you get my brother’s time table decent, I haven’t been able in years.”

As Tyrion was telling his jokes, he felt a heap of cold sticky liquid pouring over his head. When he turned around, he saw the monstrous Joffrey laughing, followed only by his mother and a few stupid people. Annoyed, Tyrion threw down the towel he was given and went to the bathroom to wash. Opening the door, he had a sight to see.

A man’s bare arse between a woman’s legs. It didn’t take him a lot to recognise the bride’s older brother and Maid of Honour.

“Occupied!” Shouted Margaery, and Tyrion slammed the door behind him. There was so much he could take.

In the evening, the groom and the bride were escorted to their house by singing guests, all still happy from the wedding. Sansa and Jaime were left all alone in the atrium, standing their dumbfounded. Sansa took off her veil, gathering it like a sheet and folding it neatly. Jaime loosened his tie.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“They’ll be back soon and you know that.”

“Still. Let me help you.”

She turned around and Jaime undid the buttons of her dress, letting it slide open, revealing her bare back. Sansa held the top part and unceremoniously walked to the master bedroom, emerging in a silky, baby blue robe. Jaime gulped. He could her them coming back so he grabbed Sansa and pulled her to the room, locking the door behind them.

“Go to bed, I’ll handle the rest.”

He poured himself some brandy.

“Have you ever…?”

“No.”

“Only with the Tyrell girl?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know. Were you, or are you in a relationship?”

Sansa wasn’t sure. She knew Marge toyed with men from time to time, but she never had the courage.

“It’s complicated.”

“Very well.”

Jaime went behind the dark red folding screen and took of his jacket, hanging it there. He emerged and took a seat across Sansa.

“Was that really necessary?”

“It’s a nice suit, I didn’t want to get it dirty.”

Sansa leaned her head against the chair. Was this her new reality?

“If you want to sleep with me, let me know.”

“Have you ever been with a woman?”

“Yes.”

“How many.”

“Many in my teen years, but only one in the past.”

“Why didn’t you marry her?”

“She’s unavailable.”

And had a murderous son.

“Oh, well. We all suffer from heartbreaks.”

“You are wise, Sansa. But keep your shields up in this family.”

She didn’t understand what he meant, but Jaime told her the truth. Well, a selective part. About his mother’s death, Tyrion and his father and Gendry and the rest of his nephews.

“My sister was 18 when Gendry was born.”

“A little younger than I am now.”

“Yes. Cersei wasn’t ready for motherhood, or being a wife. I’ll always curse my father for getting her in her marriage.”

“They never seem happy. She and Robert. He cheats on her and she ignores it, I guess.”

“Pretty observant of you.”

Jaime saw her head falling down, so he told her to go to bed. They were interrupted by the knocking and shouts asking how it is going. Rolling his eyes, Jaime laid down next to Sansa, who was already asleep.

In the morning, what awaited them, was the escort to the ship that would eventually take them to the Summer Isles, for a honeymoon.


	11. Past Shadows

Brandon Stark died young. He was a hot-head, a wild spirit, a man ahead of his time. Or that’s what Eddard Stark thought, as he remembered his voice. It is scary when one loses someone. The first thing one forgets it’s their loved ones’ voices, after that their faces too fade away into nothing. Ned remembered his brother with a bittersweet sensation in his heart. Brandon was never serious. He loved staying up until the early hours in the morning, partying the nights away. He was the one who gathered him, Robert, Cat, Lyanna, Benjen and some other people and their shenanigans were legendary. One time, they stole Rickard’s truck and hit a tree, but Brandon took all the blame. It was painful almost to remember the late Brandon Rickard Stark. Seven hells, he even introduced him to Jon’s mother. Ned shook off the memory of the woman with, long, dark hair tumbling down to her shoulders.

Looking at young Jon’s back, Ned felt a surge of shame wash over him. Swallowing, they left the graveyard and followed the group to place candles around Brandon’s tomb. The crowd in black left, for the first time joined by an in-law. Jaime knew briefly about Brandon and his fate, but it was all a blurry story to him. Was he engaged to some girl he didn’t want to be engaged and then left, crashing to his death? Jaime looked over to Sansa, who had a sombre look to her face. Jaime poked at her waist, she flinched a little, but gave him a small smile. They formed a quality friendship on that honeymoon, bonding over mutual disdain for certain people. Arya noticed their little game and nudged Jon, who shook his head. It was still unreal that his sister was married to his boss and that they got along nicely.

It’s been 2 months since their wedding, spring was turning into summer. And Jon knew that he wanted to spend this summer with Dany, because he is going back to his studies in autumn. She was well aware of that, although nothing would change in particular, Jon would only have less time with her.

Time was flying, as Jon realised. He’d graduate next year, a position for him open at his father’s company. Jon was dreading that moment.

Back in Winterfell, after dinner, Robb had a date with Rosalyn Frey, who bored him to death. Driving back home, he turned his car and drove to the Tyrell estate, Highgarden, drove past the main mansion, right to the infamous lake house. He used to pick up Sansa all the time from there, but she didn’t hang around any more. Robb felt the tooth of time biting him again. Unlike Jon, he didn’t want to go to university, he wanted to enjoy his youth. Knocking on the door, Loras Tyrell opened, looking him up and down.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Here to see Marge.”

“Oh. Right. Wait what?”

Marge appeared down the hallway, dressed in a nightgown. She had circles under her eyes, but she licked her lips and pulled Robb in. Loras, clearly stunned watched them go upstairs. Renly peeked his head out of the kitchen, holding a plate of sunny-side eggs.

“What the fuck did I just see?”

“Do you have some cognac for those eggs?”

“I’ll find something.”

“Do explain why you’re frying eggs without a shirt, you could have injured yourself!”

Upstairs, Robb and Margaery were already naked, Margaery riding him ferociously. Robb was out of breath, feeling as if he was already close. They came together, Margaery holding her hands against the bedpost, panting. She rolled off of him and threw herself in the bed, closing her eyes.

Soon, they both got dressed and Margaery led him to the door, waving him off. She went to the living room and poured herself some vodka, unaware of her brother and his boyfriend watching her. She turned around, dishevelled and covered in love bites.

“The fuck are you two looking at?”

“Marge. Sit down. This is your intervention.” Announced Renly dramatically. He patted on the spot between him and Loras.

“Marge, we both get that you and Sansa aren’t what you used to be, that she is married now and everything, but Robb fucking Stark? Asides from him being Sansa’s brother, I can list a thousand reasons what is wrong with him. He took more virginities than Dad kebabs at an open buffet.” Said Loras, rubbing his sister’s shoulders. Unaware to him, Marge already had a plan.

“I like Robb. In bed, that is. He is very, very good. And he is pleasing to the eyes.”

Loras looked behind Marge’s back at Renly and shook his head while Renly contemplated.

“Marge, in all honesty, you need a break. Remove yourself from the Stark’s. For your own sanity.”

“I will do what the fuck I want. If it’s sucking Robb Stark’s dick, I’ll do that. If it’s leaving him in tears, I’ll do that. It is all my choice.”

Renly looked sad.

“Anyway, change of topics, how is your family, Renly?”

“I’ve been avoiding them, so wonderful!”

“In all seriousness.”

“Well, Cersei is a motherfucking cunt as usual, Bobby mourns alcohol… Wait, I have some news.”

“Do tell.”

“Stannis had a mistress. A dominatrix mistress.”

“WHAT?!” The Tyrell siblings exclaimed.

“I was staying at their place recently because my flat was getting painted, and when Selyse went to the Sept to a service, a woman dressed from head to toe in red came in. With a whip.”

“I’m sick.” Said Loras, falling into the soft mint green couch.

“I know, I was like disgusted at first, but then I figured, it’s his life. But a dominatrix. Stannis, you keep shocking me.”

“All in red?” Said Marge.

“Like a red, leather dress and a matching chocker with a ruby pendant.”

“Seven hells. How much is he paying her?” Asked Loras.

“He isn’t.”

“WHAT?!”

“You heard right.”

“Marge, hand me some of that alcoholic potato.”

 

Sansa finally understood why women who are destined to be housewives choose to have a lot of children. For company, when the husband was away. Her main company had been Arya and from time to time, Tyrion and Jaime. And of course, Lady. The sandy husky had been her closest companion, she spent days grooming her and walking her. So, to cut her boredom, she decided to help out Lyanna in The Blue Rose. Today, was her first day, so Sansa left Lady for the big fashion studio. It was a slow day, Lyanna had some basic things to sew, two women ordered dresses… Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“How has married life been?”

“Nothing special, honestly. It’s as if everything is the same.”

“Darling, if there was one thing I have learned in this society, a girl’s life is changed the second she is married. Everything I have ever been taught, is to aspire to marriage. Not that I really care for it.”

Sansa nodded.

“I understand you. At least Jaime is kind to me.”

“The husband that my father wanted for me was someone who I wouldn’t consider in my wildest dreams.”

“You were engaged?”

“Almost, darling. To Robert.”

Sansa rose her brows.

“And?”

“I threatened to run away.”

“Smart choice. To be honest, now I understand why Dad compares Arya and you. She would do the same.”

Lyanna smiled.

“I hope she would.”

“And how did Cersei come into the picture?”  
“Robert’s father, Steffon, wasn’t born into wealth. He was a merchant, who worked for my grandfather and father, but gained respect and traction, soon enough he started earning money. He married an upper-class girl, Cassana, I believe, and had three boys. Robert was his father’s successor, Stannis’ choice was the badge and Renly joined the military. But, Robert too needed an upper-class marriage, just like his father. He asked my father to marry me and he said yes, knowing that I would be in good hands, with the new money. I refused. I don’t want to do anything with Robert. We were good friends for years, and what had happened? He suddenly wanted me to be his housewife and listen to his every little whim. But that’s not me.”

“You dodged a bullet there, Aunt Lyanna.”

“There were moments I prayed Robert gets hit by a bullet.”

Then, a customer came in. She was dressed in a soft, sunset orange dress, earrings shaped like suns, with a matching hat. She had black, thick hair braided into a perfect bun, and a lovely olive complexion. She was looking at some ready to wear dresses, unfortunately, she couldn’t find anything she liked. She picked out a bright, cherry red dress, but didn’t like how it looked. She rummaged through the racks again. Sansa leaned over to Lyanna.

“I think this is Elia Martell, Dany’s sister-in-law.”

“Isn’t her brother a nasty playboy?”

“She has two of them.”

Elia picked out another dress, this time it was a soft, teal hue. She went and tried it out and came out to look at herself in the mirror. She had such delicate features, she was of a slender built, almost willowy.

“You look marvellous in that.” Smiled Lyanna.

“You think? I feel like the colour looks odd on me.”

“I agree, you look stunning.” Smiled Sansa.

There was another woman at the door, but the sight of her made Lyanna go pale. She excused herself to the bathroom and left Sansa to handle the women. The second woman was slightly older, with fine lines along her face, but yet somehow, she remained youthful. She had long, dark, curly hair, which was neatly arranged into a bun at the nape of her neck. But what mesmerized Sansa were her eyes. They were the deepest shade of blue, or perhaps even purple. She wore a simple, summery dress, it was in a deep purple colour, with a forget-me-not pattern. She carried a basket with her, filled with fruit.

“So sorry for being late, I was trying to buy some pineapple for Barristan, but the line was just… And that dress looks amazing on you.”

“Thank you.”

“You should buy it. If you won’t I will.”

“Alright, alright, Asha, I’ll buy it.”

“Is there anything for me?”

“This is a giant boutique, check it out.”

After a short while, they both bought dresses and left. Sansa, happy with her work went to search for Lyanna. She was sitting in blue, plush chair, clutching a steaming mug.

“Aunt Lyanna?”

“What?”

“Is everything alright?” Asked Sansa, kneeling down.

“Of course it is.”

 

The Arryn residence was the polar opposite of what it looked the last time it was loaded with this many people. The main dinning room was decked in white, nasty red roses and blue, green and white feathers, chairs bound with sheets and decorated with bows, looking like tacky presents. A band was already in, playing soft music. In front of the dinning room, a large picture of Lysa Arryn and Peter Baelish was displayed, decorated with the same feathers and roses as the dinning room. The happy couple was posing for a photograph after their private wedding. Littlefinger, dressed in a morning suit with a large, red, made-for-a-clown rose, and Lysa, dressed in a short white dress with puffy, white feathers on her shoulder and a makeshift short wedding veil. Between them, was little Robyn Arryn, dressed in the same suit as his new stepfather.

Guests started to arrive and they were served fruit cocktails by the waiters, dressed in black and white, adorned with feathery bow ties. And then, the band played a drum-roll and the newly weds came downstairs. Lysa Arryn truly outdid herself. Dressed in a sparkling, dark blue dress, with a deep v neck, along with black opera gloves, with a large feather headpiece, that fanned out of her small head like a sore thumb. The monstrous thing had a gold base, decorated with various gemstones, along with a pair of big, sapphire earrings. Catelyn nearly chocked on her drink, Edmure spat out his and Robb wanted to throw up. She glided down the stairs holding hands with her new husband. She greeted her guests and they proceeded to the dinning hall.

“What have I just witnessed?” Asked Robb.

“The reason why I believe in hell.” Replied Edmure.

“Shut up.” Said Catelyn.

The dinner party was, to put it mildly, gross. Lysa kept talking about her love for her new husband, so she decided to give a speech.

“Petyr and I met as children, can you believe it? I guess, we were outsiders, and somehow, we found ourselves in our loneliness. Petyr has been nothing but kind and loving my entire life...” Some guests clapped, other looked grossed out, while Robert Baratheon was biting into a large piece of stake, which caused a button on his dress shirt to pop off and hit Robb Stark in the forehead. The young man groaned.

“Mother, kill me now.”

“Robb, I swear to the Seven, I will force you to spend a week with them.”

“Cruel.”

 

Stannis was having a good day, for once. He had been waiting for Euron Greyjoy to make a slip-up for ages and he had finally been given the opportunity, as the mob boss was finally dumb enough to mail the organs of a kidnapping victim to his father singed with “Love, Euron”. He could finally build a case for the man that had been taunting him for years, always a looming shadow in the night time, murdering, stealing and pillaging and not even receiving a slap on the wrist for that. But not any more. Euron’s time was coming to an end and Stannis will be seeing his face in photographs in the wall of the remarkable people, he will be all over the headlines. Stannis was finally able to do what is right and he shall reap the glory of his achievement, as he will finally file an official report on Euron Greyjoy. It felt as if the sun shone again. At least that was what he was telling his mistress as she packed her things.

“Can you believe that? I will finally put the bastard behind bars!”

“Of course you did, my beloved. It had been always written in the stars.”

“I hope he gets murdered in prison.”

“You did great, dear. I hope your family is proud.”

“My mindless wife doesn’t know anything and my daughter is too young to understand. I won’t even begin with my brothers.”

“That sounds terrible.” She started stroking his face.

“And you will be greater than they all are someday.”

“I just don’t understand why Father and Mother valued Robert the most, if only they could see his sad fat arse now...”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

 

Joffrey’s condition wasn’t getting any better. Now, strange white marks started appearing around his lips, his veins were darker and more visible, his pain was worse and worse. And yet, all of this didn’t hinder his need for blood. He killed 3 more, as if it was nothing. Perhaps, the essence of their blood gave him strength to carry on. Mother told him how proud she is of him today, which made him happy, She was the only person who cared for him and loved him and was impressed by his work. Right now, she was consulting a doctor in the corner of the room. He asked her to leave the room, so she followed, closing the door.

Qyburn was utterly confused by his young patient’s condition. The boy was healthy his entire life, and how this was occurring?

“Mrs Baratheon, I am at a loss for words, his condition is baffling me. I’ve only once seen something like it, but that tale is too harsh for a lady like you.”

“No, please, tell me, I need to know, I am his mother.”

“When I was working in a rural, mountain area, in a remote village, the houses were scattered everywhere. One house, one family. But, in some houses, not all, children started having similar symptoms to your boy, but it’s impossible for it to be the same illness.”

“What was the cause of the illness?”

“I am very sorry to have to tell you this story, but in these areas, as people lived apart, brothers and sisters started… reproducing. Which caused children being born, being healthy for a long time and then having those symptoms and then dying. Which is impossible, as you and Mr Baratheon aren’t related.”

“Is it possible to cure such an illness? Those poor children.” Asked Cersei with a lump in her throat.

“No, of course not. They have been sentenced by their parents’ sins.”

Cersei nodded, telling Qyburn to leave the residence. She raced to Joffrey’s room, grabbed him, hugging his frail body.

“My boy, my beautiful boy...”


	12. An Act

Jon wiped the counter clean, while Gendry was wiping the floor, instructing Sam to give him glasses so they can be washed. It had been a long night. Jon Snow wondered how many long night he could endure. Sam was a bit clumsy, but customers loved him since he was a kind, sincere soul. Sam talked to everyone and made them feel welcome, making Jon grateful to have him as a friend.

“Jon, can I ask a you a question?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you use the last name Snow?”

“Because I try to hide the fact that I’m related to the Stark’s. Nothing wrong with that, I just don’t people to draw conclusion before they even meet me.”

“Is that because you are…?”

“Yes. It’s because I’m a bastard.”

“Oh well. It’s not your fault, Jon. You’re a good man. One of the best I know in fact. Just born under complicated circumstances.”

“If only everyone was that kind.” Shrugged Oberyn Martell behind them.

“How are you, lads?” Asked Oberyn, counting the money the made tonight.

“I’m pretty tired, Mr Martell.” Smiled Sam.

“I can’t disagree.” Nodded Jon.

Only Gendry stayed quiet.

“Gendry, is everything alright?” Asked Oberyn.

“My brother… He is still sick, it’s not getting better. I’m just concerned.”

The three other men looked at each other.

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Nothing good, they’re just baffled with his symptoms. Sometimes, he gets better, other times, he is just sleeping, Mum looks so concerned all the time. She barely sleeps.”

“I’m so sorry, Gendry.” Said Jon, rubbing his back.

“Eh, it’s nothing we can do against it.”

“He’ll get better. I can ask Maester Aemon to make some magical herbal tea for his immunity.”  
“Thank you, Sam. Very kind of you.”

“Always Gendry, always. You know what? He’s supposed to open the pharmacy soon, let’s go there and pick up the medicine immediately after we finish up.”

Oberyn stood there, calculating. Joffrey was Cersei and Robert’s son,, Jaime’s nephew. He had known them for a long time, recalling a young Cersei and Jaime coming over for play dates, but he and Jaime remained friends for years after that, with Cersei disappearing from the picture as her children were born.

“Pack up lads, I’ll close.” He said.

“Thank you.”

Soon enough, the three of them landed in Maester Aemon’s pharmacy. The elderly man was seated in a rocking chair, going through some books. There was a pile of books around him, probably older then the boys’ grandfathers. Jon noticed Aemon’s tired eyes, which meant he had been up for ages. His wispy, white hair clung on his forehead, his tired, light lilac eyes radiating wisdom. The man greeted Sam and his friends.

“Sam, it’s nice to see you with friends. How can I help you?”

“Maester Aemon, my friend Gendry’s brother is very sick, maybe you know what can help him?”

“Of course, of course, tell me, what does he have?”

Gendry swallowed.

“The doctors aren’t sure, but he has strange symptoms. He has fevers, strange white spots around his lips, he is weak and has fatigue all the time.”

Aemon scratched his chin.

“Strange, the white spots remind of a hereditary disease I used to read about. It was common is some mountain areas, but it can’t be it. I can only ask Sam to prepare some immunity tea. Sam, will you be so kind?”

Sam nodded, inviting Gendry in the storage room to help him. Jon observed the back room, as it was the room they first walked in, unlike the usual entrance he went in with Aunt Lyanna.

“Why so sombre, Stark, or is it just your face?”

“I’m not “sombre.” And call me Jon.”

“Is your last name Stark?”

“It is. My father’s.”

He stared at the young Jon Stark.

“Names. Such a strange and powerful thing sometimes. I haven’t used mine in ages.”

“What does that mean?”

“My grandfather Jaeherys came from old Valyrian trading families, he was the wealthiest man in town. My father was Viserys, a wealthy, but over-working man. He had me, and my older brother, Aegon. Aegon was the father of Aerys and Daena, and Aerys is father to Rhaegar, Viserys and Daenerys. My family, a wealthy, at first merchant family, now a giant company dynasty, is a powerful one, but I had to interest in them. I only speak to my great-niece, Daenerys.”

“You’re Aemon Targaryen.” Said Jon, realisation washing over him.

“Yes, I am indeed one of them. Or am I?”

Sam and Gendry came back, Gendry carrying a small pouch of herbs for his sickly brother,

“Thank you so much, Maester Aemon.” Smiled Gendry.

“Do come here sometimes and tell me about your brother, dear Baratheon.”

“How did you know…?”

“You look just like your father when he was a young boy. He only had a bit of a beard.” Nodded Aemon.

Gendry and Jon left the pharmacy, both lost in their thoughts. Jon was thinking that Sam’s boss was Dany’s uncle who she never spoke about, just like the rest of her family. Just as he does. His father’s family was pretty simple, with not too many secrets, they were pretty transparent. And his mother… Damn her. She abandoned him when he needed her. The only mother, the closest thing to a mother he had ever known was Lyanna Stark. Dear and kind Lyanna, who held him when he bruised his knees, who was there for him whenever he needed her, who loved him as a mother. Whoever his mother was, she’d first have to apologise to Aunt Lyanna and then to him.

On the other hand, Gendry kept thinking of his mother and father. Their distance was greatly increased by Joffrey’s illness, as if they haven’t been distant enough. He had a responsibility to salvage them, to try to save his family for the sake of Tommen, Myrcella and Joffrey. They were just children. The two boys waved each other off and went to their homes. The first thing Jon did was go to Lyanna and give her a hug.

“Jon? Darling, is everything alright?”

“Yes, it is.”

Jon just kept thinking about all the years he kept being eaten by the faceless mother, while he had a woman who cared for him as if he was her own. He recalled that Aunt Lyanna was only sixteen years his senior. He held her for a little longer, just before she had to leave for work.

 

Lady barked loudly at the door, and Sansa commanded her to sit. Martha, the maid, opened the door for her, letting her in the giant Baratheon mansion. She was greeted at first by Myrcella and Tommen, who raced to her.

“Aunt Sansa! Aunt Sansa!” They hugged her around the waist, both golden heads leaning on her, before attacking Lady. The dog barked enthusiastically and licked both children, who looked ecstatic with the dog. Cersei, their mother, shouted at them to leave the dog alone. Sansa wondered how the woman always had a fowl expression on her face, as if something smelly was always under her nose.

“But, Mum, Lady is so soft and nice! She loves us!” Cried Tommen. Robert Baratheon came up after Cersei, shaking his hand.

“Let the children have their fun, woman!”

“Dad, can we have a dog like this?”

“Why not? If you can care for it, that is.”

“Don’t worry, we will.”

Sansa gave Myrcella Lady’s leash.

“Go and walk her in the garden. If she starts barking call me.”

“Thank you, Aunt Sansa.”

They run away to the garden, leaving Sansa with their parents. She wanted to cry. It’s not that she had anything against Cersei and Robert, she just didn’t feel safe in their presence. Especially in Cersei’s. After some tea and traditional courtesies, Sansa had to ask about her least favourite nephew.

“And how is Joffrey?”

Cersei looked down.

“He is a bit better, thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“We just have to wait, dear child.” Responded Robert.

“Listen, Cersei and I will be needed at a dinner party soon. Since Gendry will be unavailable, we need someone to keep an eye on the kids. Would you mind?” Asked Robert.

“Robert, no need for that, we can hire a babysitter or a nanny for a night, no need to bother Sansa and Jaime.” Spat Cersei.

“Oh no, it’s alright, we can watch them for a night.”

Joffrey walked downstairs, without greeting anyone. He looked pale and sickly. Concerned, Sansa moved to make place for him.

“Hello Joffrey, how are you?”

“I’ve seen better.”

“Greet your aunt, boy.” Said Robert, glaring at young boy. Joffrey’s eyes widened.

“How are you, Aunt Sansa?”

“I’m pretty well.”

Joffrey left the drawing room for the garden. Sansa noticed he had a limp. After the short, mandatory and awkward visit Sansa took Lady again for a walk in the park. The dog had been her closest company in these past days. She sat down on a bench and let Lady run around a little before she had to go back to Casterly Rock. And back like this tomorrow. And the day after that, the working week will start so she can return to work with Lyanna. Married life was boring. Jaime was away, between the restaurant and his father’s company, he was almost rarely there. And when he was there, they’d joke a little and have some boring conversations. Tyrion kept her company from time to time, but he worked too. Sansa felt stuck in one place. She was interrupted by a voice.

“Mind if I sit?”

She turned around, recognising it immediately.

“Margaery. Of course, take a seat.”

Marge was dressed in a deep shade of plum today, in a sleeves, knee length dress, which was quite odd for her. She also had a new, golden, rose-shaped brooch that Sansa had never seen again. Her hair was quite high up, in a beehive-like shape. She contrasted Sansa greatly, wore a green, bellow-the-knee dress, which actually matched the park quite nicely. Marge stared at Sansa and lit a cigarette.

“You look like a bloody housewife.”

“Nice brooch, Marge.”

“Thanks.” It had been a gift from Robb.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been pretty fine, just out and about honestly. Going to parties, hanging out… I’ve never had more fun in life.” Her dark circles spoke otherwise.

“I’m happy for you.”

“How has married life been?”

“It’s been lovely. I’m quite happy as a wife and hopefully mother soon.”

“Did you two even have sex? Don’t sell me that bullshit Sansa, I know you. Judging by your face, you didn’t. And I now know how married life is.”

“Will you shut up? At least no one is toying with me. No one is messing with my feelings.”

“How dare you.” Spat Margaery.

“You toyed with me, Marge. You know it. I was never the only one for you. Ever. Oh, you seem surprised. I knew, I knew all along.”

Marge threw her cigarette on the floor.

“Goodbye.”

Sansa took Lady with her and left.

 

Some things never came easy. To some, it was money, to others, it was a sense of decency. Daenerys signed at the sounds coming from the other room. Viserys messed up again and this time Rhaegar was the one to get him. While she was quietly doing her illegal job, she listened to Rhaegar scold Viserys all over again. Closing the last book, Dany wrapped it with a bow and hid it in a special compartment in her room. She opened her closet, pulled out some black silks and a pair of very high shoes, along with a boa and pearls, she was ready to hit the road tonight. Then Rhaegar knocked. Flinching, Dany kicked the clothes back in.

“Hi, Dany. Sorry to bother you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Rhaegar could be described as handsome by many. His silver hair was elegantly slicked back, he was dressed in a well-tailored suit. He looked like Prince Charming to many. Dany gave him a sweet smile and he pulled her into a hug.

“I have missed you, dear.”

“I have missed you, too. How is your book coming along?”

“Quite well, actually. It will be published very soon.”

Rhaegar had been writing a historical piece on the city and about it’s founders.

“And Elia and the children?”

“They’re fine too.”

Dany smiled at him again, but she wished nothing more then for him to leave her alone, as she had a place to be at very soon. She took Rhaegar’s hand.

“As much as I would love to chit chat, I really need to get ready to sleep.”

“Not before this warning. Dad wants to marry you off again.”

“I’ll tell him to leave me the hell alone. Does have anyone on his mind?”

“No, not really.”

“Good. Easier to work with.”

Rhaegar left soon and Dany got ready quickly and sneaked out pretty easily, per usual. She started her car and drove off in the night, parking right behind the restaurant. She sometimes hated being short and petite, but today, that and black clothes saved her life. Parked between the bushes, was a car she didn’t recognise, but the red crow’s eye sigil was a dead ringer, She raced downstairs and grabbed Jon.

“Jon, I need Jaime, Bronn, Tyrion or Oberyn. Now!”

“Jaime is in the storage room. What’s wrong?”

“Shut the music down, now and tell everyone to go upstairs and take a seat.” Observing her scared face, Jon nodded and took her advice, getting the rest of the workers.

Dany raced again, this time to the storage room. She found Jaime there, handling a list of missing booze.

“Jaime! Thank the Gods! Get out of here, get everyone upstairs!”

“Dany?”

“I saw Euron’s gang! Call the fucking police!”

“I’ll call Stannis in.”

Soon enough, the three bartenders dragged everyone to the upstairs part of the restaurant. Everyone was placed on a table, conducted by Tyrion. They’ve been handed menus and some of the staff gathered to be waiters, as the actual ones weren’t there. Jon clutched Dany tightly, knowing that Euron had been after the notorious Dragon. Soon, Stannis pulled in, followed by half of the local police force, barging into the restaurant.

“Where is he? Where is the witness?”

“I am the witness.” Said Bronn.

Stannis asked him to sit down and explain what is gong on.

“Well, we are close to our closing time, so I want to go and take a piss. Unfortunately, the bathrooms were full and I said ‘Eh, fuck it, might as well piss in the bushes’ but then I take a short walk to the gardens, take me pants off, and surprise! A car with the big red ugly eye. Only Euron’s ugly mug missing.”

The officer taking the notes nodded, while Stannis shook his head. Another one came in.

“Commissioner, sir, we found tire tracks in the bushes.”

Stannis nodded.

“Thank you for your help. The police will be out tonight, patrolling. Please, stay safe and go to your homes.”

Stannis left, followed by the police force. Tyrion, holding wine in a mug, came over, shaking his head.

“Stannis is a bigger idiot then I thought.”

“Really?” Asked Jaime.

“First, no one is eating anything, and this is a restaurant. Second, the kitchen isn’t working. There are only 3 waiters and we have 15. And last, he close at 11. It’s 1 now.”

 

Jaime returned home and took off his coat, hanging it on the hanger. Tyrion will sleep in this wing tonight, because he was too lazy to walk over to the other side of the yard, and he was pretty stressed out too.The house was quiet, Lady sleeping in the living room. She moved when she saw Jaime. He went upstairs to change for bed, but he needed a fresh pair of pyjamas and remembered they were in the master bedroom. Entering on basically his tiptoes, Jaime slowly walked to the closet, only to notice an empty bed and an open bathroom door. He walked slowly over, concerned. What if she slipped and fell? But, it wasn’t anything like that. Sansa was in the bathtub, eyes closed, leaning against the tub, her hair up and cheeks rosy from the warm water. The tub was filled with bubbly, lavender scented water, and Sansa was soaked in it, copper hair collected in a bun. Her eyes were closed but when she heard Jaime she opened them.

“Jaime?”

“I’m sorry for being here, I’ll let you finish your bath. I just need pyjamas and I’m out.”

“No, no. Please, stay if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

He took a seat across her, taking position at the opposite part of the bathtub. Sansa leaned on her hand, studying him. She’d lie if she didn’t think he was handsome. He had such pretty eyes and a jawline to die for.

“How was work?”

“It was alright, but we had to close early.”

“Oh?”

“Someone thought they spotted some mobsters.”

“Seven hells. Is everyone okay?”

“Yes.”

Sansa licked her lips. It was about god damn time.

“Can you help me up, please?” Asked Sansa, extending her hand.

“Of course.” Jaime got up and offered both hands. She took them gladly and he pulled her up. This had been the first time he saw her naked. Her body was covered in foam and water, but he couldn’t help but stare. She was thin, long legged, with slightly broad shoulders. Her skin was very pale, but it looked very smooth, although it was lightly dusted with freckles.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t stare. Here.” He grabbed a towel and wrapped in around her and she exited it.

“It’s okay.”

Sansa walked to the bedroom, taking a seat on the bed.

“Jaime.”

“Yes?”

“Will you take a seat next to me?”

He listened to her, studying her face. She raised her hands to undo her hair, causing the towel to fall off, revealing her breasts. The copper curtain fell over her shoulders, covering them.

“What do you think of me, Jaime?”

“You’ve been a good companion, Sansa. You’re kind and patient.”

She shrugged.

“Is that all?”

“What do you want?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“You.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

She got up, the white towel dropping on the floor. Timidly, she came to him and climbed in his lap, facing him. She gave him a sweet, slow kiss, but they got faster and hotter. Jaime started unbuttoning his shirt, but Sansa already begun at the bottom and took it off, throwing it away. His pants soon followed, so he was only left in his underwear. Sansa got up and laid on the bed, leaning on her elbows. He followed her, looking down at her.

“Please, be gentle.” She whispered. Jaime nearly stopped.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?”

“I’m sure.” She whispered back. He inhaled deeply and got down, kissing her again and again. He left a trail of kisses down her neck, his stubble ever so slightly poking her skin. He left another trail, down her breast and stomach, going between her legs. She shivered. Again, she felt the stubble poke her, but she was used to it by now. Gripping the sheets, she felt the built up, but then he stopped. And then he pulled back up to her, cradling her face.

“How are you?”

“Pretty well, you?”

“I’m doing just fine.” she was holding his shoulders now.

“Okay, if you need to bite into my shoulder or whatever, do it.”

“Okay.”

She actually did. Not because she absolutely had to, but because she wanted to. Her breathing was faster and faster, until it turned into moaning. After a while, they just laid there, in silence. It felt like an act of need, but there was want too. She wanted his body, that was for sure. She still has to decide if she wants him. Jaime soaked her in. It’s been a while. He missed having a woman, but Sansa felt gentle, like a petal or a porcelain doll he was too afraid to break.

“Sleep well.”

She came closer to her and leaned on his chest, listening to his breathing. She had a feeling her heart might explode.

“I liked this. We should do it again.”

“You did, huh?” He asked, voice laced with mirth.

She rolled her eyes and he pulled her in.

“Sleep well, Jaime.”

“You too, Sansa.”

In the early morning hours, Sansa woke up first, slightly sore. She got up and pulled on her robe, staring at Jaime. He looked ageless in his sleep, like a much younger, less weathered man. He turned around, exposing his naked chest. Sansa leaned on against the door frame of the bathroom door, still open, staring at him. He stirred again, stretching this time. He woke up and yawned.

“Morning, Sansa.”

“Good morning, Jaime.”

“How are you?”

Sansa deliberated.

“I’m happy. You?”

“Couldn’t disagree.”

She dressed in blue today, which for her, was a happy colour. Wearing a lovely, powder blue, shift dress and matching earrings, she walked to the living room and saw her brother-in-law read newspaper, quietly observing her. Jaime pranced in soon, fixing his cuffs, his hair wet.

“Are we having breakfast with father?”

“Unfortunately, yes, and with Cersei and Robert too.”

“So, if we’re lucky enough, Robert won’t eat the entire table.”

At the breakfast table, Sansa sat between Jaime and Tywin, since it was a round table. She buttered a muffin, focused on her plate while Tywin and Robert discussed a recent deal between the Tyrell’s and Greyjoy’s. Sansa felt Jaime poke her thigh under the table, her lips curving into a smile as she turned to him. When she rose her head, she saw Cersei looking at them. Not breaking eye-contact, she bit into the muffin.

“And you two?” Turned Robert.

“Hm?” Asked Sansa.

“When will you grace us with a grandchild for Tywin bearing the last name Lannister?”

Sansa almost chocked on the muffin and Jaime wished there was some whiskey in his coffee.

“We’re working on it.” He replied, earning an annoyed look from Sansa.

“Certainly. Keep it up like last night, and we will be swarmed by babies.” Said Tyrion, cracking an egg with a spoon. This time, Jaime chocked on his coffee and Tywin and Robert laughed and Sansa’s face melted into her hair.

“Seven hells, Tyrion!”


	13. Summer

The heath was deadly this summer. Jon looked at the sun, wondering how close he was to actually melting. And Dany had to come with the roofless car today. The hot, scorching sun was making him feel like melting ice cream, but Dany, dressed in a long, light pink bell skirt, sleeveless white blouse, with a rosy, flower patterned scarf tied under her chin and cat sunglasses didn’t even flinch. She was driving like it was her business, she even had gloves on.

“How is it possible that you aren’t dying?”

“Fire can’t kill a dragon.”

“Oh wow.”

Jon fanned himself with a fan he found in the passenger seat’s compartment. Dany parked near the kindergarten her niece attended.

“I’ll be right back, wait for me.”

Jon nodded, still fanning himself. Could it be autumn already? But, the thought of autumn made him feel lost. He had only 5 exams and he has graduated. And what then? Interrupted in his scared thoughts by Dany and a little girl, he turned around to observe them. She had Dany’s eyes, otherwise she was her mother’s child. Rhaenys hid behind Dany’s skirt, earning a big laugh from Jon.

“Hello, I’m Jon. And you are?”

“I’m Rhaenys.” She said shyly, still hiding behind her aunt. Dany picked her up and placed her in the backseat.

“Rhaenys, we’re going to your Mum, is that okay?”

She nodded. They pulled out in front of Dragonstone and Jon noticed two figures walk down. One, dressed in teal, the other one in lilac. Rhaenys jumped out of the car and raced to the woman in teal, giving her a big hug. The woman in lilac smiled and approached the car, shaking hands with both Jon and Dany.

“Ashara, pleased to meet you two.”

“Hello, I’m Daenerys.”

“Jon.”

She nodded, looking at both of them.   
“My, my, you two make a handsome couple.”

They both smiled.

“Let me first park the car and then we can all properly talk.”

Soon, they were in the large drawing room, where a table was set for tea, adorned with millions of different pastries and cakes. They were joined by Rhaella, as Dany’s male side of the family was absent.

“So, when is the wedding?”Poked Ashara.

“No girl would get married if she knew what she is getting herself into.” Laughed Elia.

“True, very true.” Said Rhaella.

There was an awkward silence.

“I’m graduating soon, we’ll see. Dany and I have a lot of to think about before taking such a huge step.”

Dany agreed.

“So, Ashara, how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we were neighbors back in the day, I used to babysit her and Oberyn. My family was penniless at the time, because my uncle gambled it all away. We’re in a different position now, my brother is serving and I married well, and my sister is engaged to be wed.”

“Oh, lovely, to whom?”

“Willas Tyrell. Don’t worry, I’m the eldest of three and there are huge age gaps between the three of us. I mean between my brother and sister, because she is the only child of a second marriage.”

“Oh, lovely. When is the wedding?”

“Next year, we haven’t announced it yet.”

“Well, you need to order a dress from The Blue Rose, Aunt Lyanna makes the best dresses!”

At the mention of the name Lyanna, Ashara’s eyes went empty.

“Who is the owner of The Blue Rose?”

“My Aunt, Lyanna Stark. You probably know about her brother, my father, Eddard, or Ned Stark. Depends how you know him.”

Ashara nodded quietly, looking down at her mug. There was a ringing in her ears and she felt as if she’d faint.

“I need… water… Please.”

The servant raced and gave her water, gathering around her. She looked so faint and pale, as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t keep her eyes of Jon.

“Are you alright?” Asked Dany.

“Yes, yes I am, please, let’s continue.” They all sat down back at the table.

“Jon, tell me, how old are you?”

“I’ll be 24 this winter.” She nodded.

“I couldn’t have possibly met you, I stopped being in the same circles as your family ages ago, when mine lost everything.”

“How did you resolve the crisis?”

“We still are. I married rich, so will my sister.”

“Is your brother married?”

“He is, he even has a boy named Edric.”

“That sounds lovely.”

The tea party was soon over and Ashara left. Elia waved her off, wishing her a good afternoon.

“Tell me, Elia, who is Ashara’s husband?”

“Barristan Selmy, you know him, he has worked with your father.”

“And what was Ashara’s maiden name?”

“It was Dayne, why?”

“Nothing, just curious.” Sad Dany, feeling a lump in her throat.

 

Sansa kissed Jaime goodbye. Her marriage had been blooming recently, because of their newly discovered sex life. It took some getting used to, but it was lovely to enjoy his undying attention and, perhaps someday, love. Jaime was a good husband and a careful, dedicated lover, attending to every single of her needs. Right now, she pressed a big kiss on his lips, throwing her arms around his shoulders. He held her waist, grazing her back with his fingers.

“I had a little idea.”

“Mhm?”

“Since you’re not working tonight, can we throw a little “dinner” party here?”

“I like how you’re thinking. Of course. Can you organize this little event of yours?”

“Of course, Jaime. Be careful today.”

“As you say, darling. Who are you inviting?”

“Our mutual friends. Nothing too special.”

“Ring me if you need help, okay?”

She nodded, giving him another kiss. He waved to her and left, Sansa standing on the veranda. Lady pranced around the garden, bumping into her father-in-law. Gasping, she raced to grab Lady.

“I’m so, so, sorry, Mr Lannister! Lady, get back here!”

“Sansa, dear child, you can call me Tywin, you’re my daughter-in-law. Come, Lady.”

He knelt to pet the sandy husky.

“She is a lovely lady, isn’t she?”

Lady laid down on her back, letting Tywin scratch her belly. Sansa smiled at the sight. Stern and cold Tywin Lannister, petting a dog?

“Do you want her ball? She loves it.”

“I’ve heard you and Jaime want to throw a dinner party tonight. I’d love to come over, but I’m old. Although, I wouldn’t mind spending some time with this dame here.”

Clearly surprised, Sansa gave him the bowl and left Lady with Tywin, who took her leash and went for a walk. So, it was on Sansa to prepare the dinner party. She rung her guests, who all agreed to be there at 9. Dany would bring the alcohol and Lyanna her music, Gendry promised not to make a mess and Robb and Arya promised to be there. She wondered if she should invite Marge, but a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach told her not to. Instead trusting her better judgment, she called Marge and she said she’s coming. They’ve been friends for ages, things can’t just change over night. She remembered a childhood ages ago, a memory distant as Marge and her were now. She believed she could fix it. Sansa truly did. She instructed the chef to make club sandwiches and finger food, so she decided to deck the tables and decorate them herself.

Sansa went to the garden, carrying an empty basket to gather flowers. She gathered lavender, roses, daffodils, tulips, gardenias and baby’s breath and arranged them, just as her mother taught her back when she was a little girl. She hadn’t seen her mother in a few days, so she had a sudden need to call her.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Hello, Sansa, how are you, my darling?”

“I’ve been well, you?”  
“Well, nothing has changed the past, week, although Robb seems to have cleaned up. He is the eldest, so I suppose he has finally got the memo...”

He wasn’t. Jon was 4 months older then Robb, making him the eldest child of the household. Sansa played with the cord, trying to understand the sudden urge to call her mother.

“How are Bran and Rickon?”

“The usual. Bran asked me not to go on play dates with Robyn any more...”

“And Dad?”

“Ned is just his usual, hard-working self.”

“Say hello to him from me.”

It was 8 sooner then she expected so she went to take a shower. Pinning her hair up, she got in, closed the curtains and turned on the warm water. Sansa flinched immediately, not from the heat of the water, but because her nipples were very sensitive. She got out, put on a lacy, navy dress and some basic make up. Jaime was home soon, got dressed in a nicer suit quickly. They were at the door, waiting for the people. The first guests were Jon and Dany, holding black bags, filled with liquor.

“Get in, before someone sees you!” Laughed Jaime. Soon, Sam, Gendry, Arya, Lyanna, Oberyn, Ellaria, Bronn and some girlfriend of his came. Only two people were late. Jaime poured the drinks, while Sansa served them. Lyanna was in charge of the music.

“I have some cigarettes!” Shouted Gendry, turning around to see Jaime. “Please don’t rat me out.”

Jaime laughed and took one, lighting it.

“We have been graced by the presence of Lyanna Stark!”

“I will ground you, Lannister!” Shouted Lyanna, taking a place by the piano. Jon asked Dany to dance, and they showed off their best moves in the living room. Gendry observed the photographs on the walls, Sam watching them with him.

“That’s Grandpa Tywin, back when he had hair. And that’s my grandmother, Joanna. Wasn’t she awesome?”

“She looks a lot like your mother.”

“No shit.” Said Jaime. Arya nudged with her elbow.

“Lighten up, pumpkin. The night is still young.”

“I’m not pumpkin.”

“Do you want to be bull again?”

It was almost midnight when Robb and Marge arrived, both slightly dishevelled. Marge, dressed in red, was reapplying her lipstick and smoothing her hair out, while Robb was fixing his tie. She knocked on the door and Jaime opened, with his own tie tied around his head.

“The hell are you two late? Get in!”

He showed them both in the large house. Margaery has never been here before, in her entire life. First, after passing the large, made out of old bricks and stones veranda, they were greeted by a large wooden door, with lion carvings on it. Then, the giant atrium was fashioned out of light stone, covered in thick, red carpets, with portraits hung everywhere. They were led into a living room by Jaime, which was twice the size of the giant atrium. It was furnished by vintage couches, chairs and settees, decorated with vases, photographs and lamps. What stung Marge was a large wedding photograph of Sansa and Jaime, right by the rustic fireplace. At the piano, Lyanna Stark was pressing the keys, along with the Martell’s and two other people, singing the ‘Dornishman’s wife’.

“The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,

and her kisses were warmer than spring.

But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,

and its kiss was a terrible thing.

The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,

in a voice that was sweet as a peach,

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.

As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,

and the taste of his blood on his tongue,

His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,

and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,

"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,

the Dornishman's taken my life,

But what does it matter, for all men must die,

and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!”

Marge batted her lashes at the sight and took off her coat, throwing it over the couch. Robb gladly took a drink from his sister, joining the band in the corner. Marge found unusual company in Gendry, Sam and Arya, who were quarreling over some pictures.

“Oh, a neutral opinion! Now, listen to this one. We think that Sansa here looks just like my mother on her wedding day. And look at the proof!” She pointed at the picture of Ned and Catelyn, next to the of Jaime and Sansa. They did certainly look alike.

“I don’t care honestly.”

Behind the staircase, Jon and Dany were making out. Jon was clutching her face, biting and pulling her lip like a hungry wolf. He left a trail of kisses down her neck, propping her up against a wall. After a quickie, they came back to the wild party. At this point, Oberyn was at the piano, while Lyanna was holding Ellaria.

“You are stealing my wife, Stark!”

“That’s the point of the song, Martell!”

Jon took Dany’s hand, nodding. He whispered something into her ear and she giggled.

“Everyone, listen up, I have an announcement to make! Come next year, Dany and I will get engaged!”

“Ohh!” Shouted the room, clapping and laughing. Dany’s smile widened, she looked down and shook her hand.

“That calls for another drink!” Shouted Jaime. Margaery, tired and annoyed, took Robb’s hand and dragged him out, leaving everyone without even saying goodbye. Sansa barely noticed. She’d had to question later why Robb and Margaery came and left together, but she doubted Marge would stoop so low and sleep with Sansa’s brother.

Arriving at the Stark mansion, Marge pulled Robb in and started to take off his clothes, throwing his shirt at the door and climbing on top of him. Unfortunately, Catelyn Stark was wide awake and concerned for her son’s safety, so she knocked at the door, but no one replied. Petrified, she opened the door and was greeted by a sight she never hoped to see.

“Mother…” Said Robb, pressed under a girl. The girl turned her chocolate head to reveal none other then Margaery Tyrell.

“Oh, Seven hells!” She sat down on Robb’s chair, holding her head.

“Mother, I can explain...”

“How, Robb, how? You two get dressed and sit down, and you will listen to me!” They followed her orders and quietly took a seat on the furniture across the Stark matriarch.

“You will listen to me carefully. On my honour as a Tully, on my honour as a Stark, you will propose to Margaery in the next few days! Before you say something, I never said that you have to accept! Robb, your father had been telling me this morning how happy he is that you have cleaned up, and now this! You do this! You dishonour Margaery, Sansa’s best childhood friend? How dare you! This is beyond even you! She is almost family! You will do as I said, Robb! I have had it with you! Imagine she got pregnant?”

“What, we’d have another Jon?”

“Shut your mouth! Jon has nothing to do with this… Get a ring boy, tomorrow. You will be a bridegroom soon.”

“But...”

“No buts, ifs, whens. This is my final word, Robb. I have forgiven you for too many mistakes.”  
She slammed the door behind them, leaving them in silence. Marge rubbed her eyes, embellished by dark circles.

“What now?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“This is a bad way to speak to your future husband.”

“Just, shut up!”

The next evening, Robb Stark and Margaery were engaged. Robb had presented her with a ruby ring, with diamonds shaped like petals around it. It looked like a rosebud, small and delicate. Allerie, her mother, asked Marge about the upcoming nuptials.

“I am the most happy to marry Robb, Mama.” Was her reply. She turned to the other corner to the room, to see Loras shaking his head. The families decided to make an announcement the next week, after informing the closest relatives in the next few days.

 

Two weeks after the party, after having to sift through the new reality, Sansa was trying to piece her days together. Betrayal is a strange, curious thing. Something she wasn’t quite used to. She’d have to serve as maid of honour, too. Fate was funny thing. It was maybe 5 AM, she was lying in bed, wide awake, her stomach stirring that her brother was marrying her first love, her first joy. But she needed to realise that was all over now. Her stomach churned again thinking about the Sept, the place she will take, everything. Suddenly, she felt a wave of sickness crashing over her body so she raced to the bathroom and threw up. Jaime felt the sudden shift in the bed and got up immediately, racing to see Sansa.

“What is going on, are you sick? I’m calling the doctor!”

“Jaime, there is no need...”

And he was rushing to the phone. An hour later, Sansa was still being examined, the doctor nodding and asking questions.

“Well, congratulations are in order, Mrs Lannister! You’re with child!”

She almost chocked.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, absolutely. The symptoms match! First, I need to prescribe you a slightly stronger diet...”

His words echoed in Sansa’s head. She was a mother to be, and last year, around this time, she was a bride to be. Was there anything she wasn’t to be? She touched her stomach, which felt strange. There was something that would become a baby in there. She wondered what everyone had to say to it.

“Congratulations, Mr Lannister.” He shook Jaime’s hand, soon leaving the future parents alone.

 

Weeks passed, Jon was due to take his first exam. He spent the night studying, as he had to leave his job bartending in order to graduate. Dany was on his bed, while Jon was on his desk, book in her hand, asking questions about the topic awaiting on him tomorrow.

“I need a break.” She closed the heavy-duty textbook and put it on her lap, studying Jon.

“Of course, take it easy, Jon.”

“So many things have happened this summer, I feel like it lasted ten years.”

“I know, I need to process it all.”

Dany was flipping through the book now, watching the pictures printed there. She stumbled upon a kraken with gloomy, almost cartoonish red eyes.

“Oh look, Euron.”

Jon shook his hand.

“Is he still a threat to you?”

“Not as much as I am to him. I robbed him of half of his business deals My intention is to leave him penniless, scraping to survive.”

“Why do yo hate him so much? Is it personal?”

“It’s beyond personal. He killed my men, the men that worked for me. They had families, relatives, people who cared for them. They were killed on my watch. I will never allow that. I cannot think of tears and pain. I will look only upon revenge.”

She never spoke about Euron. Jon suddenly understood everything. Dany’s crusade against the Madman of the city made perfect sense.

“His lapdog, Bolton is the first one that has to die. He is a monster.”

“Ramsay Bolton?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

“His father used to work for mine, but stole some money, got arrested and still is in jail for it. He had a brother, but rumour has it he killed him.” Jon got up and knelt in front of Dany.

“You are a brave, strong person, someone I am happy to have in my life. We will take down Euron Greyjoy. Together.”

“Together.”


	14. Couple In Love

“That was nasty.” Spat Ramsay out, throwing the bloody, barb-wired bat on the floor. The bludgeoned body of the young man he just finished bled out on the pavement. This was a nicely done job, yet he was still in knee-deep shit with his boss. Euron needed the Dragon, he wanted him dead. And Ramsay Bolton will be dead too unless he delivers the Dragon’s real name and face. He let his dogs out, to finish the business and lit up a cigarette. He was about to meet up with Petyr Baelish, so it looked like dirty jobs today for the Flayer. Puffing out smoke, he waited for the damn weasel. He was late, as always, so he called the Rottweilers in the back of his truck. The dogs hopped in and Ramsay closed it up and felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned around, bat ready to strike, only to spot the thin form of Petyr Baelish.

“Ah, Littlefinger, fucking finally. Do you have the pictures?”

“Yes, all in the utmost compromising positions.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to work with you.”

He put the cash in Littlefinger’s pocket and flipped to through the file of the business man they’re about to blackmail. It was rather tasteless in Ramsay’s opinion, but hey, who was he to judge?

“How’s the missus?”

Littlefinger shrugged.

“The same as always.”

“Lovely. Listen, book me Myranda for tomorrow, I haven’t seen her in a long, long time. I’ve missed her pretty face.”

Myranda was the only girl who could take it up with Bolton’s madness.

“Why of course, at what time?”

“In the afternoon, perhaps. I’m working at night. And Baelish, I could use your help on something else?”

“I’m at your service.”

“Have you heard of the notorious Dragon?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“I want you to dig around a little bit, turn every stone, nock and cranny, but find me a name. And a face. And you will be rewarded magically.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But the dragon is like a shadow, we know many rumours of him, but nothing about him.”

“And that is where you come in, my friend.”

Bolton leaned closer.

“Fuck this up and I’ll castrate you with a rusty, dull knife and feed it to the dogs.”

He started the truck and left, waving to Littlefinger. He spat on the trail and left the crime scene before the police pulled in.

 

Benjen knocked on the door of his sister’s residence and was surprised to see little Arya on the door.

“Hi, Uncle Ben.”

“Arya! My, you are taller!” He ruffled her hair, earning an eye-roll from the girl.

“Where is my sister?”

“Upstairs, attempting to make Robb look decent.”

“Huh?”

“For the wedding.”

“Who is getting married now?”

“Well, Robb is.”

“What the…? Why hasn’t nobody notified me?”

“They’d send you an invitation, I guess.”

“Seven hells, who did they get to marry him?”

“Marge Tyrell.”

“What?”

“I know, wild!”

“Wild? This is insane!”

They walked into the living room where Jon and Robb were seated, with different shades of grey and black fabric pinned on them, along with ruffled yellows placed on their chest.

“What?”

“Hello, Uncle Benjen.” They said in union. Lyanna emerged from a pile of fabric, needles between her lips. “Hi, Ben.”

“Careful there, you might swallow one and why the fuck...” He placed his hands on Arya’s ears. “...hasn’t anybody told me about Robb?”

“Because I’m still processing the trauma.” Answered Robb.

“What happened?”

Arya moved his hands from her ears.

“Mum caught Robb and Marge in bed, made Robb propose and Marge, to my utter shock and surprise, said yes.”

“Seven hells, what is that woman thinking? But I guess it ain’t that bad for Robb, you already like her.”

Jon snorted, knowing the full story.

“I’ll shave your head, Jon, I fucking swear.”

“This is just the beginning of this mess.” Said Jon. “I can’t wait for old man Mace to eat the entire buffet and people complaining how they can’t drink at weddings.”

“Don’t remind me.” Signed Robb.

“You know, when you and Marge have kids, Mace will be their grandfather. Oh yes, speaking of grandfather, Sansa is pregnant.” Said Arya, munching on a cake. Benjen sat down.

“I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“And Robb might add to that equation.” Laughed Lyanna.

“You were supped to be my ally here, Aunt Lyanna!”

She shrugged.

“You’re an easy target, Robb.”  
“And when is the wedding?”

“In two months.”

“What?”

“Cat’s request, and everyone is okay with a winter wedding.” Finished Lyanna. “We are going with the dark grey, boys, it looks the best against yellow.” They got up, removing the pins.

“And Jon is best man?”

“And Arya is a bridesmaid again.”

“Don’t remind me.” She spat out.

“Lovely, I need a drink. “

“That’s illegal, Ben.” Said Lyanna.

“A normal one.”

“Oh, do you want to see the newspaper article?” Asked Arya, pulling out the papers from a box, giving them to Benjen.

“Mr Robb H. Stark and Miss Margaery R. Tyrell are engaged to be wed this winter… I know his middle name is Hoster for that fish man but what does R stand for?”  
“Her middle name is Rose.” Said Robb.

“Oh, how poetic, I guess. Seven hells, I feel like I’ve been in a bunker. I need to ring Sansa, to see how she is.”

“I visited her yesterday, she is throwing up, eating and sleeping.”

“Oh lord. How are Ned and Cat on becoming grandparents?”

“They are actually very happy, can you believe that?”

“I can’t imagine Ned as a grandfather. I mean, I can. Ah, he is a born grandfather with his wisdom.”

“True, very true.”  
“When is she due?”

“At the beginning of next summer. Seven hells, we are not ready for that.” Muttered Arya.

“And how are our in-laws?”

“We actually saw old man Tywin smile.”

“What the fuck.”

“I am sorry to leave you, but I have to go and meet Dany.”

“Oh, who is Dany?” Asked Benjen, trying to keep up.

“My girlfriend.”

“Good for you, boy!”

 

Jon said goodbye to his family and left for the forum where Dany was waiting for him. She was wrapped in a dark, grey, almost black coat with a red scarf. Jon pecked her cheek and rose his head up to watch his father give a speech. Aerys was dressed in true, black, clean cut coat, with a crimson scarf, his white hair slicked back. He was to address the crowd on an important issue, but somehow the crowd just couldn’t settle, moving around his pedestal as an ocean.

“...And as difficult these past years have been, I am forced to admit, in order to make progress, we have to change…”

BOOM! The crowd started screaming and the security tackled the mayor. Jon clung tightly on Dany, holding her like she’s glass. Security recognised her and pulled them both in city hall, in the large, white space that was the mayor’s office. Aerys was unharmed, but shaking. Dany was holding his hand, quietly talking to him. Jon stood back, watching the father and daughter interact.

“Dany, the only thing I kept thinking was they shot you...”

“But they didn’t. Take the day off, please. You’ve been working too much lately, please, take a break.”

“What were you trying to announce?” Asked Dany.

“That I’m removing that fool Stannis as commissioner, that they’d be new elections for one...”

Dany was surprised.

“Do you think Stannis has something to do with it?”

“He isn’t really resourceful and no one in particular benefits from him being commissioner but him, so I highly doubt it had anything to do with him.” Aerys turned to Jon. “I’m sorry for my manners, please, come forward.”

Aerys got up and they both shook hands, Jon swallowing.

“I’m Aerys, Dany’s father.”

“I’m Jon, Jon Stark.”

“A boy of Ned’s? I haven’t seen him in ages, tell me, how is he?”

“He’s about to become a grandfather, he’s ecstatic.”

“Tell him we need to meet up, I haven’t seen him since his daughter, I think her name was Sansa, was born.”

“That one is having a baby now, Dad.” Smiled Dany.

“Seven hells, I’m old.”

“I’ll tell him you said hello.”

“You do remind me of Ned, but nothing of his wife, your mother, then.” Jon looked down and Dany bit her lip.

“Dad...”

“Oh, I’m sorry… You’re...”

“The bastard.”

“That’s a crude term. But it’s good you’ve owned it.” Aerys looked at Jon closely, now seeing a lot of his mother in him. He truly did take from her family as well.

“Sorry if I have offended you. But hey, at least you’re not related to Lysa.”

“You know whacky Lysa?”

“Unfortunately.”

Dany rolled her eyes.

“Rhaella mentioned you once or twice, but I’m glad Dany is friends with the Stark’s. You’re a good family, and all honourable, kind people. How is your aunt?”

“Lyanna? She is very good, being the lord of the fashion industry here.”

“She is one of the smartest people I ever met, for dodging Baratheon. That man is a boar with two legs. I know he is your father’s friend, but he thinks with his, sorry Dany, cock, not head.”

“I wish you were wrong.”

It was awkward to see her father and boyfriend bond.

“So, any future plans?”

“I intend on graduating soon, two exams left. And then I’ll see, but probably, helping at Woolfswood, Dad wants to retire soon.”

“I see. It was nice talking to you, Jon, I hope you make more appearances and I hope we meet the next time with less death and bullets.”

“Goodbye, Mr Targaryen.”

Aerys watched them leave, wondering if this means what he think it does, because he had to calculate if this was actually beneficial.

 

Marge was standing in Lyanna’s studio, trying out her wedding dress. It was stark, snowy white, the palest white shade in the world. It had a large, bell bottom, with many layers and a train. It had a sweetheart bodice and a sheer, organza overlay, like a jacket. Her hair would be up, with a big veil and with a headpiece borrowed from her grandmother, who was carefully watching the situation develop.

“I think you need to pinch it in at the waist, Marge has a tiny one, make good use of it.” Said the Queen of Thorns. Margaery started at the window, wishing she has a cigarette. Her brilliant plan was to for Sansa to catch her and Robb in the act, feel pain, put strain on her marriage and then Marge can quietly move on from the entire story. And there she was, ring on her finger, in a white dress. How does one even get themselves into situations like these? Lyanna pulled the fabric in, pinning, making it tighter. When it was time to choose a wedding dress, her first thought was to go opposite of Sansa, as hers was covered in layers of lace. Olenna got up, looking Margaery up and down.

“How we are talking. I love this, very much. You outdid yourself, Lyanna.”

Lyanna put down the pins, nodding.

“Thank you, I know we have a week to go, but we can make it.” Margaery wondered why Sansa wasn’t there.

“Where is Sansa?”

“She’s running late because of morning sickness, since she can’t sleep in the morning, she catches up a little in the afternoon, so that she doesn’t faint during the day. But I can show you her dress.”

It was a soft, lovely yellow shade, with long sleeves and buttons in the back. Lyanna said Sansa had a matching hat and earrings so therefore she’d match the theme of the wedding. The Tyrell’s left soon, leaving Lyanna to fix up the dress. She heard the bell ring when someone came in, which was a normal thing, as it announced the customer. She flipped the dress inside out and started working on making it tighter.

“Hello, how can I help you?” She said, not picking her head up.

“How about you tell me the truth?”

Lyanna rose her head, looking at the woman in front of her. Ashara Dayne. Jon’s birth mother. She had a cold, stern look in her eyes, looking at the Stark as if she murdered Jon. Lyanna put down the needle and leaned on the counter.

“There is nothing I can say to you. Absolutely nothing. We both know you renounced him at birth because your family was in ruins at the time Jon was born.”

And what was the truth? The truth was that Brandon Stark introduced Ashara Dayne to Ned Stark, a high society beauty and a shy, young man. The truth was, that Rickard Stark and Hoster Tully agreed to have Brandon and Catelyn wed, to which the former had a lot to say about. Ashara and Ned kicked off their relationship, deeply in love, willing to marry. The truth was that Brandon tragically died in a car crash, handing his position to Ned, who was truly unprepared for everything, forced to break off his relations with Ashara and marry Catelyn, which resulted into the conception of Robb, who was born 10 months after the wedding. The truth was that Ashara Dayne was hiding a pregnancy, family suddenly penniless, she calls Ned and tells him, and honourable Ned, always does the right thing and takes Jon Arthur Stark in, Arthur being the only token left from his distant, faceless, shadow-like mother was the name he and is uncle bear. The truth was that he was raised by his aunt, father and other uncle, his mother cutting off every contact with him.

“I want to see my son.”

“Ashara. We both know what happened that night in Dorne. You gave birth to a boy in the old summer house, didn’t even look at him, told us to give him he middle name Arthur and left two days later. You never sent a single letter. You never came to look at him. He is a man grown now. Can you honestly look him in the eye and tell him that you are his mother?”

“I am. Nothing changes that, Lyanna. I just can’t believe that you, of all people, would forbid a mother to see her child.”

“It is not mine to make decisions for Jon, but if he knew the truth, he’d regret knowing who you are.”

“Exactly. Jon is a grown man, he can make his own decisions. I’ll meet him and tell him everything. How he was taken from me, how I had no money, how his father was married to another woman...”

“You tell him that lie and you’d wish you died that night in Dorne. Leave my presence now.”  
Ashara left, slamming the door. Lyanna fell on her knees. She was well-aware of the truth and her role in it, but what was the truth? Ashara didn’t want to touch Jon after 13 hours of labour, she slept the entire day off while Lyanna cared for the infant. She delivered him, after all. And after she woke, she didn’t even touch the little boy. She just looked at him and said to Lyanna to take care off him and left after she recovered. Why does she want contact with Jon now, after all these years? What if she turns her nephew, her own flesh and blood, against her? She picked up the phone, calling Ned, his secretary answering.

“Alys, can you please give me Ned? Tell him it’s an emergency.”

 

Sansa looked at the tiny bump on her belly. It was just there, remind her of the child that was to be born in a few months. But, today was not that day. Fixing her coat, she walked downstairs and faced Jaime, who was waiting for her. It was the wedding day of her brother and former lover, which she had to serve as Maid of Honour. The car ride to the Sept was relatively quiet.

“Sansa, are you alright? You haven’t said a single word about it.”

“What can I say? If I were to say something, people would look at me as if I’m a monster, ruining my brother’s and best friend’s big day.”

“Wise choice for the rest of the world.”

“And I can’t afford stress right now.”  
“Of course.”

She leaned on the car window, enjoying the cooling effect it had on her head. She wore a yellow, matching coat over her dress, which was cinched at the waist, making her little bump stand out ever so slightly. She stood in front of the chapel with Arya, a cousin of Margery’s and Loras, who just gave her a quick look and entered the Sept. Guests were still ariving, so were her aunt and hew husband. Aunt Lysa wore an electric green outfit, with a big, feathery hat, with her husband on her arm. Littlefinger gave Sansa the creeps, ever since childhood. Robb and Jon always told her to stay away and she knew, listening to them was a smart option. Littlefinger scanned her, up and down, with a quick look, making her feel uncomfortable.

“Hello, Mrs Lannister.”

“Sansa, my darling child!” Said Lysa, slapping a kiss on her cheek. “How are you? How is the little dot?”

“We’re both fine, thank you.”

“And Arya, look at you!”

Arya pretended to be busy with her shoes.

“We better get in, the groom is about to come.”

Robb and Jon came, dressed in similar morning dress, with yellow flowers each on their chest. Sansa adjusted Robb’s tie.

“You cleaned up well.”

She truly wished him no ill will.

“Thank you. I hope she is fast to arrive, you shouldn’t stand here in the cold.”

Jon and Robb took their places by the altar. Places, places, gather your places, put on a brave smile and keep your chin up. Robb could feel his mother’s eyes piercing his back. Gods help him to survive today. Robb heard the first bars of the choir and straitened up. He heard the rustling of the fabric, the murmurs, which means that Margaery was there. Robb turned around. She looked as white as snow in her plain, but big dress. He knew what he should be feeling now, but was he washed over by feeling of endless love and beauty? Marge’s dress was all white, the only thing giving it some sparkle was a diamond necklace inherited from her grandmother. What surprised Robb the most was the brooch he had given her in her hair,, holding her hair up. Their vows were spoken soon, prayers were sung, and they excited the Sept, now married in the eyes of Gods and men. The reception was held at The Lion and The Sun, with a large band and dances. Since the entire Targaryen clan was attending this time, minus Viserys, Jon knew he had to keep a distance when it came to Dany, but he was well aware of the fact he couldn’t keep himself from asking her to dance. After Robb and Marge opened the dance, Jon walked between tables and asked Dany to. Jon noticed Rhaella smiling and a surprised Aerys, while Rhaegar and his wife were watching him carefully. Dany said yes and gladly accepted Jon’s arms.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

They glided smoothly across the dance floor, never taking their eyes off each other.

“It’s nice to see a couple in love on the dance floor.” Said Margaery.”  
“At least we agree on that one.” Muttered Robb.

Jon spun Dany around, leaning her on his chest before releasing her.

“We’re next, you know that?”

“Are we?” She smiled.

“I gave you my promise. One exam left and I’m graduating. This means we can finally get married.”

“Will you be traditional and ask my father first?”

“I want to marry you, not your family. I love you for you.”

She felt as if her heart could explode.

“Jon...”

“Hm?”

“I will do anything in my power to be with you, until the end of my days.”

“I’m glad we want the same.”

The music stopped and they turned around to clap for the band and couple.

On the other side, the groom’s parents were watching the dance. Ned Stark smirked at the scene, it felt all to familiar, for he had danced with a girl like that at a wedding a long, long time ago. It felt as if that time was carried away by the winds of winter. Catelyn observed Jon. She rarely watched him, but she could recognise a face of a man in love. He looked like he loved that girl with every heartbeat.

“Cat?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be right back, I have to see Aerys Targaryen over there.”

She rose a brow.

“Oh?”

Ned got up and walked over to Aerys, watching the couple still. This wasn’t the first time a wolf loved a dragon. If only that wolf and that dragon married, things would have been much different. Alas, they both died young.

“Aerys, it’s been a while.”

“Ned, please, do sit down.”

“Ella, you look gorgeous.” Smiled Ned, shaking Rhaella’s hand.

“How have you been, Stark?”

“Very happy, what about you, Targaryen?”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Truly.”

“And we seem to have another connection this time.” Said Aerys, pointing his chin to Dany and Jon dancing with little Bran and Rickon.

“What should we do?”

“Nothing until they decide otherwise. I hope that Jon’s birth isn’t a problem.”

“Nonsense. These are better times, Ned. He seems like a good young man.”

Ned nodded, while Aerys looked down.

“We cannot afford to make the same mistakes our fathers did, can’t we?”

 

Eddard Stark hated confronting people. Especially someone he hadn’t seen in over 20 years. Holding his head between his hands, he heard a knock on the door. When he rose his head, he finally saw her. Ashara Dayne. Or Selmy, nowadays.

“Please, do sit down. Before you speak, you have to know that Lyanna has told me everything. I know that you want to meet Jon.”

“I ask nothing of you, Mr Stark. Just to see my son.”

“Have you considered he might not want to see you?”

“How dare you? He’s my son.”

“Listen. Jon is graduating today. If you have the courage to walk up to him and tell him who you are, I welcome you to do it. I’m washing my hands.” Ned got up, pulling on his coat.

“Ashara. I have nothing to say to you. You made your choice and I respected it. I tried to do the right thing.”

“As you always do.” She spat out.

“Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me, you did nothing wrong?”

Ned was ready to walk away for the second time.

“Walk away, Eddard Stark, you coward. That’s the only thing you have ever known.”

Ned almost stopped. Almost.

That afternoon he watched Jon accept his diploma. He watched the crowds, not even spotting a curtain of long, dark hair. Jon received a wreath of flowers from his lady love, reminding Ned of his own graduation, of the summer spent with Jon’s mother, of Brandon’s final days and the tears of his late lover on his grave. Time has run him over. That was the summer when Robert fell for Lyanna, but she refused him on the spot. One might say that Robert still had bile in his throat over Lyanna Stark. He prayed his children have a better fate. He was a happy man, but at what cost?


	15. The Right

“It’s like I can’t fit into my clothes, any more.” Said Sansa, hands on her hips. She was dressed in a dark green, velvet, long dress, which only accentuated her not so small bump.

“I think you look lovely.” Smiled Jaime behind her, buttoning up his own coat.

“Do I? I feel like a lumpy tree.” She put her hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick against it. This one was a rowdy one. Sansa had some experience with babies, because she herself had three little siblings. In preparation to become parents, they painted the nursery in neutral colours and already started buying clothing and the necessary supplies. Expectations were high, especially on Tywin’s side, as this will be the first Lannister born since Tyrion. Unfortunately, they were headed for the Baratheon’s, as Robert organised a dinner party for his birthday. They arrived almost late. In the drawing room, Ned, Catelyn, Cersei, Robert, Tywin, Lysa, Littlefinger, Tyrion and to their surprise, Doran Martell, were already enjoying their drinks. The room was nearly quiet, but when they saw the parents to be, they turned to greet them. Sansa was immediately surrounded by her mother and aunt, pestered and pressed with questions.

“Are you craving sweets or savoury food?” Asked Lysa, sipping some random fruit cocktail.

“Both, honestly. Maybe more savoury?”

“Oh!” Smiled Lysa. “It will be a boy, I’m telling you.”

“As long as it’s healthy...” Said Jaime awkwardly.

Sansa cradled her belly, as if trying to protect it from looks.

“Cersei, how is Joffrey and the rest of the kids?”

Cersei shot her a glare.  
“Joff is getting better. You can go upstairs and see them if you want.”

“Is Gendry there too?”

“The boy is out and about!” Laughed Robert. “Using his youth like any smart, young lad! Gods, I miss mine… Ned, you remember when me, you, Branny and Ben painted that cow red with beetroots and the old woman thought it was possessed?”

“I remember! And Lyanna had to lie to Dad and convince him it wasn’t us...”

Sansa noticed Lysa’s lips tighten. She decided to go upstairs and visit her niece and nephews. Cersei felt the need to push her off those stairs. Jaime watched back carefully. Sansa knocked first on Joffrey’s room, hearing a mumbled “enter”.

“Hi, Joffrey.”

“Aunt Sansa, what a surprise.” He looked at her stomach. “I see you’re in good health.”

“And how are you?”

“I’m better now, thank you.” He might have killed a child or two this week.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She noticed the white spots on his forehead have faded. There was a stiff, heavy, awkward silence and Sansa left his room for another she was much more fond of. The playroom where Tommen and Myrcella usually were. The room was stuffed with toys, everything one can imagine, ranging from dolls to trains. Tommen was playing with a toy train, conducting it to go in circles, while Myrcella was reading him a book out loud. Spotting Sansa in the door, they dropped the toys and raced to hug her. She cat down on the carpet between them and caught up on their stories.

“And Sir Pounce survived the snow!” Finished Tommen, laughing.

“I’m happy for Sir Pounce.” Smiled Sansa, noticing that Myrcella is staring at her belly.

“Aunt Sansa, when are you having the baby?”

“Very soon, darling. Do you want to feel it kick?”

She took Myrcella’s little hand and put it on her belly, the girl excited to feel the movements of the baby.

“Will it be a girl or a boy?” Asked Tommen.

“I hope it will be a girl, so I can braid her hair and teach her how to be a proper lady!”

“You, teach her to be a proper lady? I heard you burping an hour ago!”

Sansa laughed at their little quarrel and kissed them goodbye. Downstairs, the guests were already at the dinner table, eating. She took her spot next to Jaime. Dinner quietly continued until Robert and Doran opened their mouths about a new business deal.

“And to seal the deal, we agreed to eventually have our children married.” Nodded Robert. Cersei halted, putting down her glass.

“Joff is much younger than your daughter, Doran.”  
“We were thinking Myrcella and Trystane, of course, in 5 to 7 years.” Sansa calculated. The girl would be 18 in 5 years. Her mother’s age when she wed.

“And what is to be of my Myrcella?” Asked Cersei, clutching her glass, as if she might break it.

“Now, now, Cersei, this is just the begging, doesn’t mean anything.” Tried Tywin. Cersei didn’t have it. Her little girl, to be sold like a broodmare like she once was? She knew the Baratheon’s needed the marriage, as they didn’t have the ancestry and pedigree, but the Lannister’s didn’t. Her Myrcella

will have a choice.

“She is 13. At her age, my biggest concern were dolls and school. As it should remain hers.”  
“And we agreed on that. We won’t have them married by tomorrow, dear. But, in some years...” Nodded Robert. Cersei wanted to throw the entire table. As if Sansa’s belly hasn’t been stinging her eyes the entire night. Now her girl? She’d have Robert dead in his sleep tonight, had Joffrey be healthy and strong enough to care for her and the company. If it were to fall on Gendry, he’d listen to the Stark’s too much, he’d be concerned with everyone’s opinion but hers. This won’t do it.

“We’ll talk about it later, my dear. And with you, too, Doran. It would be an honour to join our families.”Spat Cersei through her teeth.

There was an awkward, painful silence for the rest of the night. Jaime and Sansa walked back into the house and ended up in bed. For the rest of the night, they talked baby names.

“You know, if it’s a boy, my father will kill for a Lannister name.”

“Do you have a family tree somewhere?”

Jaime nodded and came back with a book. It looked ancient and had golden lions on it and the word Lannister on it. Opening, he gave her a quick rundown through the family tree. There was an image of a smiling man who looked a lot like Jaime, with a fat baby in his lap.

“And this are?”

“Jason Lannister, my great-grandfather, and Tywin Lannister, my father.”

“That baby there is Tywin?”

“Well damn it Sansa, he had to be a baby once too.”

“I understand that! I like his name. Jason. It sounds like an ancient, powerful, hero.”

“He was trading fur and coal, which did make him a hero.”

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Can we give him my father’s middle name?”  
“Why not? Jason Eddard Lannister. I like it. And for a girl?”

“The girl can have a Stark name, right?”

“Which one?”

“I was thinking Serena. I have an ancestor named Serena and she had a sister named Sansa, but I always liked Serena better and wished I was named for her. And a middle name… Joanna. If it’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is.”

 

Littlefinger left Lysa to go home alone, under the excuse he had a business issue to attend to. In truth, he had an orgy planned at this brothel, so he better attend as the gracious host. His house, the infamous “Mockingbird” was located between the former butcher shop and an illegal bar for the less fortunate, so they can drunkenly stumble upon his ladies. It used to be a really ugly building, but Littlefinger has made it pleasing to the eye. He had the woodwork fixed, walls painted a hot, deep, shade of red. He hung painting of lechery and sexual acts, the best erotica he could find, all in golden frames. The beds were large, covered in jewel coloured silks. There were many sets of rooms. The first floor was flooded with security, arranged with various weapons in case of emergency. The second floor were the drawing rooms, where the girls greeted guests and parties, like tonight, were held. The second and third floors were private rooms, for day to day work. Upstairs, in the attic, was his office. The girls had to be dressed well, always in bright colours, with black chokers with a mockingbird pendant on it. He was aware he didn’t check out the new arrival, a new girl. All he knew was she had red hair, was thin and runs her mouth about everything, according to Ros, his main girl. Ros was clad in deep, amethyst purple tonight, with matching stocking and garters. She was fixing one just as her pimp walked in.

“Ah, Mr Baelish! I’ve been waiting for you. The party is about to begin and you haven’t seen the new girl.”

“Yes, please tell me she has manners.” Ros stopped in her tracks.

“We are working on it, Sir.”

“Some like the feisty ones, I suppose.”

The girl was in a private room, getting her hair done by Shae. Her red hair was braided and coiled into a bun, face smeared with white paint, blue eyeshadow, black liner, electric pink lips and a small heart under her left eye, per tradition for parties.

“What’s her name?”

“Ygritte.” Said Ros, adding finishing touches to her hair.

“And where did you stumble upon her?”

“Me cousin Gilly kicked me out because I have been bringing boys, annoying the living shite out of ‘er, so eh, better use me talents.”

“She can sing and play the flute.” Remarked Share, stepping away.

“That’s an unusual talent.”

Ygritte reached toward his pants.

“I’ll show ya...”

“We meant the instrument, you dumb whore!” Yelled Ros, nearly slapping her with a fan. “And the only whore who touches Mr Baelish here is me!”

“Eh, you are nothing special, except maybe teats and red hair, but I have red hair too. You like red heads, Mr Baelish?”

Littlefinger closed his eyes and pulled out a black chocker with the bird on it.

“I do, Ygritte, but only special ones.”

“Ah, I see. Does your missus have red hair too?”

“She does, indeed. Ros, I’ll need you in your room later, after the party.”

Ros smirked at Ygritte who just shrugged it off. The music started playing and people came in, filling the place up to the rim. Men, women, rich, poor, all of them were ready for a night with the “Mockingbird” girls. The scent of everything one can imagine was felt through the walls and Littlefinger was upstairs, changing into his special coat and getting ready for the thrill of the night. The coat was clean cut, black and adorned with his favourite pin. Walking downstairs, he greeted his guests, many of them enjoying the offerings of his house. He poured himself some wine and waited for Ros. If he squints his eyes, he can see a young Catelyn looking back at him. It was a pleasure only then. Ros was now taking off her clothes, but Littlefinger didn’t like what he saw, for the first time in a long time. As if he needed something younger.

“Ros, I’m heading out early. Close the gates and get everyone to bed, business reopens at 2 sharp. Good night.”

He left the coat and drove back home, only to find Lysa wide awake in their bedroom. She was still in her clothes from tonight.

“Where were you?”

“I was just wrapping up my business, my love.”

“I was alone.”

“Oh, you have Robyn.”

She got up grabbing him by the arms.  
“I was always alone, with Edmure and you! We were never important enough to be friends with them!”

“Who?”

“Ned, Brandon, Catelyn, Robert, Lyanna, Benjen, Aerys, Rhaella, all of them! There were one happy group, until the day that Brandon died! I was never invited to the parties, to the trips, to the beaches, to the dinners, to their gatherings, I was always ugly duckling Lysa, left to be ignored and made fun off! Catelyn got engaged to Brandon, handsome Brandon, and then, when he died, she got Ned and the entire Stark fortune! I got the fat, old man! She had a perfect family, I barely got one child! She was always, the beautiful, popular, beloved, elegant Catelyn and I was the one ignored! And then I got you.” She whimpered, holding his face.”And now, you are bound to leave me too.”

“Never.” He lied.

 

Robb looked over at his partner in bed. Her hair was splayed across her chest and she was looking at the celling.

“How come, whenever we fuck, we end up hate fucking?” She asked.

“Good question, Marge, good question.”

She got up and went to the bathroom. Robb soon heard water so he rolled over in bed. How in seven hells did he end up married to Margaery? Robb got up and entered the bathroom where Margaery was already in, water bubbling around her. Her hair was held up by a random scarf, eyes clothes. Since the tub was large enough, Robb told her to move a little so he can get in. They sat like that in the quiet, Robb studying her face. She had a pretty, heart shaped face, big eyes, arched, thin eyebrows and a small, pouty mouth. She was indeed pretty, only dark circles marring her eyes.

“Do you sleep enough?”

“Huh?” She asked, as if suddenly woken up.

“You have dark circles around your eyes.” Said Robb, slightly touching her face. “Are you sick?”

“I’m not. And why do you even care?”  
“Because we’re married. Which makes us family. And I take care of my family. So tell me, Margaery Stark, what is in your head?”

“I...” She wanted to tell him about Sansa, about what happened, why she used him, why she is so afraid and alone, why she wants to wither away like a rose. But she couldn’t. She can never bare her heart to him. “I’ve been tired the past few weeks.”

“Can you talk to Sansa, if not to me? You have been best friends your entire life. I mean, until she married, but I guess, that’s what happens.”

“Sansa has more important concerns. She has a belly up to her teeth, I’d be too much on her plate. I’m too much on anyone’s plate.” And that’s where she slipped. Robb gave her a sad look.

“I know that you don’t think of me highly, but, I’m willing to listen to you. Care for you.”

She had never heard that in her life before.

“Let’s get up, we have to eat something.” He gave her a hand and she gladly took it.

 

“Seven, give me strength!” Shouted Rhaella while Viserys covered his ears.

“Not so loud, woman, I’m hungover!”

“I swear, Viserys, I have had it with you!”

He was lying on his bed, room dishevelled. He was last night at the “Mockingbird”, enjoying a lovely night.

“This is the last time you have brought shame upon this family.” She stomped her foot. “You are joining the army!”

“Me, shame? And what about Daenerys? She has been copulating with a… Bastard!”

“It is not his fault that he has been born the way he was! He is a good, honest, man! I wish I could say the same for you! In a week, you are leaving. End of the story.”

“What about the company, huh? Who is supposed to run it? Mr Sad Writer?”

“Someone who can.” Muttered Rhaella.

“Well, good luck finding him.”

“Who said anything about a him?” Rhaella turned around. It was time for the true heir to step up. Yes, Aerys will need some convincing, but, he has learned a long time ago, when Brandon Stark wanted to marry his sister Daena Targaryen, that she is always right. She was the only one in favour of the match, but no one else was. Brandon, engaged to someone else, died in a car crash, and Daena… She withered away in that asylum around the time Daenerys was born. She will never allow her girl to live through something like that. Ever. They can call her a man with teats, but Rhaella knew, she didn’t give birth to a frightened child, she gave birth to a woman who wasn’t afraid of anything. She knocked on her husband’s privy, where he was again, buried in his work.

“Aerys.”

“Why so dramatic?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

“I have finally found a solution for Viserys.”

“And that is?”

“The army.”

“Are you out of your mind? Rhaegar won’t touch anything regarding the company now that his book is gaining traction!”

“I gave you three children, Aerys.”

Aerys clasped his hands.

“People will laugh in my face for letting my daughter work.”

“The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of sheep. We both know how smart she is.”

“Very well. Get her here when she comes back. She is starting next month. I pray for you that you’re right.”

“I am always right.”

 

It was in the early hours of the morning, dawn barely crawled into Casterly Rock when Sansa felt it. It was like a nudge at first, like something kicked her inside out. She woke up, as if someone poured water on her head. Quickly, she woke Jaime up to get the doctor. It was time. Soon, the house was stormed by relatives from both sides. Catelyn Stark was seated next to Cersei, who stared at the door of the room. Sansa was heard shouting and screaming, in pain and agony.

“Where is Jaime?” Asked Cersei.

“In the room, with his wife. I told him to get out.” Said Tywin, shaking his head. He led everyone downstairs, to wait for the child there. Catelyn wanted to storm in, but she knew, Sansa had to get through this one alone. There were loud shouting sounds, the doctor rooting for her… And then they heard it. It was a loud, sharp, roar-like cry. Everyone tensed up. An hour later, which lasted like a day, Jaime came down, carrying a tiny bundle, wrapped in a red blanket. He had a big, bright, smile on his face. The first people he approached were the grandparents, handling his own father the tiny child. It was small and pink, it’s features unclear yet.

“Father, Mr Stark, Mrs Stark, I would like to introduce to you, your new grandson.” Tywin’s face lit up the moment he was handed the bundle. Catelyn stared at him. He was so small, asleep already.

“His name is Jason Eddard Lannister. He was born at exactly 8:21 and is as healthy as he can be.”


	16. Child Killer

After Jason’s introduction to the Faith of the Seven, there was to be a small luncheon at Casterly Rock, hosted by Tywin Lannister. The Old Lion was greeting guests left and right, trying to have the families organised. And for the first time in a long while, Casterly Rock was swarmed with people to see the newborn heir to the Lannister empire. The boy was now 5 months old, hair golden, eyes a soft shade of teal. He was asleep soundly after the ceremony, with his relatives downstairs. Ned Stark and Tywin Lannister were hosts somewhat, but the godparents were Robb, his namesake Robert, Edmure Tully and Gena Lannister, sister to Tywin.

“I tell you!” Spoke Gena. “The boy looks just like our Jaime when we was little! A copy of him!”

“Here, here!” Agreed Kevan.

Robb leaned over to Margaery.

“We are flooded by Lannister’s.”

“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes at the scene. But, no one could match the spite, despair and anger that was flooding through Cersei’s system. Sansa looked every part the proud mother, just as she once did with her children. Except, they weren’t hers. They were Robert’s in name, therefore only he counted. She wondered how much will it take to snuff all of that happiness out. She guessed one dead baby. Evening fell and guests departed, except for the Baratheon’s and younger Stark’s. Robb and Margaery were to sleep in one room, Arya in the other and the rest of the family was to be scattered over the house. It was the perfect time to relax. Sansa put on her nightgown and took little Jason so she can feed him. After she was done, she decided to lull him to sleep, but it seemed he wanted to be awake. She saw the slim figure of her sister-in-law, deep in conversation with her father, speaking up about the guests today. Spotting Sansa, her face turned icy, but Tywin looked delighted.

“Sansa, may I hold him?” He asked, offering his arms. Surprised, Sansa placed Jason into his arms, turning him the right way. She was about to explain to Tywin how to hold him, but she remembered he had children too. One of them was giving her a spiteful glare right now. She leaned on the couch, watching Tywin looking at his new grandson.

“He is absolutely marvellous.” Smiled Tywin.

“He has you wrapped around his little finger.” Laughed Sansa.

“I don’t mind. Look at him!”

Cersei felt anger rile up in her heart. She recalled her father barely touching her own children. Gendry, his first grandson, received the most attention, Joffrey, a spitting image of him was barely looked at, Myrcella and Tommen ignored. She tried to keep herself from strangling the baby and mother.

“I think he’s asleep.” Whispered Tywin.

“I’ll take him to bed, then.”

“I’ll do it.” Said the old Lannister and got up to take the baby upstairs.

Sansa followed him, leaving Cersei alone. It was time to act. She went upstairs and knocked on Joff’s room, only to find him wide awake. His health had been deteriorating at a fast pace, face almost as pale as death itself. She signed.

“My boy, my beautiful boy. Do you want to make your mother proud?”

Sansa walked to her bedroom, remembering to tell Jaime about something she heard about the recent child killings, when she bumped into Marge. She looked a bit healthier, but her face formed a frown the moment she saw the red haired woman.

“What are you doing tonight, dear?” She asked her, crossing her arms.

“I was about to go to bed. Infants are exhausting.”

“How sad it is what your life has become.”

“You tell me.”  
“You could have been married to Loras, or any of my brothers. You could have been with me.”

“Let it go, Marge. For once. Yes, we were everything to each other. First love and joy, everything. But it’s over now. Understand please.”

“You told me once that I toyed with your feelings. How did I toy with them, Sansa?”

“One moment, you were kissing me and telling me how precious I am, the other you were sleeping with someone else!”

“What in the seven hells!” Shouted Robb behind them. They turned around, as if struck by lightning, jumping away from each other. Robb stood there, mouth agape.

“So it was all a sham to get back at her? You married me out of revenge.” Said Robb, his eyes going dark. Jaime heard the noise so he entered the corridor.

“Why are you making so much noise? Do you want the vampire to come down?”

“Which one exactly? My wife, your wife, your father or your sister?”

“What is the quarrel about?”

“They were lovers once!”

“So?” Asked Jaime, clearly confused by Robb’s statement.

“You knew about this?”  
Arya heard some noise on the other side of the corridor and wanted to check it out. Unfortunately, she was unfamiliar with her surroundings in this house so she ended up in the wrong hallway. She noticed that the nursery door was creaked open so she wanted to check on her nephew. And there it was. The looming figure of Joffrey Baratheon, holding a pillow over the baby’s head. Joffrey just wanted to make his mother proud. He had seen her suffering and her pain, all coming from this nasty, vile creature. He wanted nothing more to snuff its breath out and have it dead and thrown to the dogs. And he found the dumb thing sleeping soundly in his crib. He dreamt of doing the same thing to Myrcella and Tommen many, many times, but he never got the chance. What a delight it will be to see the little thing die. But, before he managed to come near to the child, he felt a strong, heavy object on his back. He fell down, screeching in pain. Arya put down the wolf figure she used as a blunt weapon and grabbed Joff by the leg and pulled him out of the room, the boy still wailing in pain. Hearing Joffrey’s and now the baby’s scream, the group of for raced to the hallway to find Arya staring at Joffrey on the floor.

“Arya, what happened?” Shouted Sansa.

“He tried to kill Jason! I saw it with my own eyes!” Cersei and Robert, disturbed by the noise, came down to see what in the world is going on. After hearing Arya’s story, the house turned into a shouting match.

“My Joffrey would never!”

“What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Is the child in good health?”

“SHUT UP!” Shouted Arya.“Get Jason to bed and call a physician for Joffrey. He has white spots all over his ugly mug.”

Cersei noticed his nose was bleeding too. He was raced to the Baratheon household and attended by 3 doctors, day and night, but his condition didn’t get any better. It lasted for a week. A week of agony, blood, pain, tears, and finally, death. It chocked him by his little throat like he did with the children he killed. Some might argue that it didn’t come quick enough, some might argue it was too quick. They boy died in the worst possible way, holding onto his life, ridden by disease, clutching his mother’s hand. The funeral was a quiet affair. None of his school friends came. The only two people honestly weeping were his older brother and mother. But, what crawled all people’s soul who witnessed what happened that night in Casterly Rock was the horrible truth that the Child Killer, was a child himself.

 

It had been a month since the murderous boy had been lain to rest. The docks were covered with seagulls, sailors and prostitutes, but, what Daenerys Targaryen was looking for was a sailor. And she needed one name. Yara Greyjoy. Captain of the Black Wind. Daenerys knew, if she wants to expand her family’s trade and her own, she need an experienced sailor, and who better then Euron Greyjoy’s own niece? She knew, she heard in the underground that the Uncle had been a monster, did unspeakable things to the entire household, terrorized and created unspeakable pain. She knew, the niece wanted revenge. Joining their businesses might give them aces in two realms, the legal and illegal one. Dany found Black Wind, docked and prepared to sail. There were many ships bearing Yara’s sigil, a black circle with a silver kraken. Daenerys counted them. There were eight ships, but she needed more. And with her help, Yara might be able to acquire more. She spotted a man transporting some rope so she put on her best poker face and tapped lightly on his back. He turned around, looking her up and down. She frowned.

“I need to speak to your boss.”

“Miss Yara!” The man shouted. Yara Greyjoy was clad in black pants, boots and a men’s white shirt, along with a black trench coat, she had a gun in her pocket, and a cigarette in her mouth. She looked at first annoyed, but when she saw Daenerys, she changed her mind.

“Oi Pip, what have the winds brought us today?”

Daenerys was clad in coat dress of a charcoal colour, with high heeled shoes, a matching hat and orange red lipstick. Yara thought the sight of her cured her sore eyes.

“My name is Daenerys. I suppose you are Miss Greyjoy?”

“You suppose well, Miss Daenerys. Have me met before?”  
“No.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here to make you an offer.”

“Please, do follow me.”

Yara gave Dany a hand and the two women proceeded to go to the cabin. Yara offered Dany some cognac.

“And the prohibition, Miss Greyjoy?”

“Fuck that. And call me Yara.”

“I think you will love the offer I have for you.”

“And who’s wee songbird are you?”

“I am no songbird. I am a dragon breathing fire.”

At those words, Yara turned around and took a seat across Daenerys.

“I’m listening.”

“I want Crowseye sleeping with the fish.”

“It’s two of us, then.”

“I want to make you a double offer. Legally, your ships will transport goods for Dragon Inc. but, a part of them will be for liquid goods.”

“How much money are we talking, Dragon?”

Dany handed her an envelope. She peeked in it and blinked a few times.

“I need to think about it.”

“Take your time. I’ll write you a number and you can ring me when you want.”

“I made up my mind. We’re partners.”

“That was quick.”

“But, you need to drag me into your fancy night circles. I can’t drink with filthy rats any more.”

“We have reached an agreement, Yara. I’ll give you a map and explain to you how everything will go. And then, when the opportunity rises, we’ll strike him.”

“I know him inside out.”

“What do you know?”

Yara looked down. “Things you cannot even imagine.”

Daenerys nodded.

“We will ruin him.”

“Euron likes to use mind warfare. You don’t know how he thinks.”

“And he doesn’t know who I am.”

“That is your greatest advantage, Daenerys. But, how did you know I wouldn’t run to me Uncle dearest and tell him?”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“I like you already.”

 

Ros was inspecting the girls, to see if the rooms were tidy, dresses washed and prepared, girls clean and neat too. She checks every girl to see if one caught something while working, for ageing, imperfections, anything, and then she reports to Mr Baelish. He is always pristine and proper about his girls, they need to be the best of the best. Today was waxing day, which means they are making sugar paste to remove hair from their bodies. The big pot was cooling off in the drawing room, where girls took off strips of their legs, arms and private areas in order to remove hair. The issue is, the new girl, Ygritte, had never done that and needed assistance, so Shae and Ros were helping.

“And now for your privates, Ygritte.” Said Shae, pulling the paste out.

“Are you mad, you whore? Ripping out me cunny?”

“Your “cunny” needs that forest around it cut down. A wolf could get lost there!” Screeched Ros.

“Fine. But I will scream.”

And she did. Other girls looked at her like she was a demon from a hellhole. She probably was, but that is truly not important to anyone. After Shae was done, she threw the paste in the bucked and wiped her forehead. Ygritte got up and went upstairs to mope.

Soon, the pimp himself arrived, ready to proclaim the open night. The pimp was by the door, greeting the guests coming to enjoy his girls. One of them was the esteemed Tyrion Lannister, to see his favourite, Shae. Before he even got to enjoy Shae, he had to visit the bathroom. On his way there, he encountered something that appalled him. He had been frequenting this brothel for ages, but now, he finally saw the pimp. Petyr Baelish. Tyrion wanted to laugh, but then he overheard the conversation between him and a man with a red eye on his back.

“Boss wants them, new, fresh and sweet.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You won’t see, you will do. If Euron Greyjoy wants whores, he will get whores.”

“I will get them for him. But I won’t dispose of the bodies like last time.”

Tyrion felt dizzy. Not only is Baelish a pimp, but Euron Greyjoy’s? And he then disposes of the girls like they’re rubbish? He turned on his heel and raced back to the car. His chauffeur was soundly asleep, but he woke him up quickly.

“Drive you fool!”

“Where to, Sir?”

“The Lion and The Sun. Now. I need to see someone.”

The basement was flooded. Almost everyone was there, including Jon Stark and Daenerys Targaryen, but this time, Jon was a guest. They were both by the counter, enjoying the music and dancing. Robb was there too, while Gendry and Sam were serving drinks. Jon held Dany tightly by the waist, her head on his shoulder. Tonight, they were ready to be a normal couple and enjoy a little drinking and dancing. Dany brought Yara Greyjoy with herself and she proved to be a favourite in the bar. The night was going well until Dany spotted a girl. One might think she is Elia Martell, but she looked much younger. Her built was much different, too. She was much curvier, with a fuller cheeks and lips. Her dark hair was loose, dress bright red and revealing. Dany wanted to scream. This was Elia’s niece, Arianne Martell.

“Arianne Loreza Martell!” Shouted Daenerys.  
“Fuck!” Yelled Arianne.

Dany marched toward her.

“Are you aware that your uncle owns this bar?”

“Well, he isn’t here tonight.”

“Does Doran know where you are?”

“Fuck no.”  
“Tough luck Miss Martell, you’re staying here tonight. I don’t want any creeps coming for you.”

“But Dany!”

“No buts! I don’t want Elia and Doran coming for me if something happens to you. And if Oberyn were to find out...”

“You’re being mean now.”

“Oh really?”

Arianne turned around to the group of men who were watching the spectacle.

“Do you know why Dany is so good at escaping and running away? Her curfew was 7 until she turned 18. Then it was 8.” Dany rolled her eyes.

“And do you know why Arianne often frequents this restaurant? She had a crush on Jaime and his bartenders.”

Arianne stomped her foot. But, before she managed to response, Daenerys spotted Tyrion Lannister racing toward her and grabbing her hand, pulling her behind the counter. He whispered in her ear briefly, earning a shocked look from her. Dany whispered something back and Tyrion shook his head.

“How long?” She finally spoke loudly.

“Who knows...”

“Another reason to eliminate his ugly mug.”

Dany crossed her arms, looking in the other direction. Before she knew, there was a mad fight broke out. Dany rolled her eyes and pulled out a gun underneath the counter.

“That was there the entire time?” Asked Sam, half concerned.

Dany shot in the celling once and the entire place went quiet. Then the fight broke out again. She rolled her eyes.

“Sam, get Bronn. He should handle this. The rest of you, get in the cars, we need to go.”

“Where?” Asked Jon.

“Somewhere safe.”

“Winterfell it is.”

In one car, were Dany, Jon, Yara, and Arianne, and in the other, Robb, Sam, Gendry and Tyrion. Dany was first, carefully driving through the night. Jon had to ask.

“What did Tyrion tell you?”

“Have you heard about the “Mockingbird”, Jon?”

“Oi, I better shield Sunshine’s ears here.” Said Yara, putting her hands on Arianne’s ears. She moved them away and focused on Dany’s story.

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s the most notorious brothel in town. And now we finally know who runs it. Mr Petyr Baelish.”

“Fucking Littlefinger?” Said Jon. Dany turned right.

“Yes. And catch this. Euron Greyjoy visits. Baelish provides girls, Euron does things with them.”  
“What things?”

Dany shut her lips. Jon understood. They arrived at Lyanna’s house and the entire bunch got in. Inside, Lyanna, Arya and Marge were sharing tea. They didn’t blink at the sudden appearance of Jon, Robb and six other people. Lyanna told them to sit down and asked them if they want to drink something. Then Tyrion told his story again. Lyanna signed.

“Will crooks ever pay for their crimes?”

“Here? Never. This city is a feast for crooks and they know it.” Muttered Daenerys. Arianne was appalled with what she has seen and heard in her first night out alone. Perhaps Daenerys was right. Perhaps the city was never safe. Lyanna walked downstairs with Jon, to prepare some drinks for everyone. As the water was boiling, Jon finally spoke.

“Aunt, Lyanna, I’ve made an important decision.”

Lyanna was afraid it was something concerning Ashara Dayne.

“Oh?”

“I’ve decided to ask Dany to marry me.” Smiled Jon.

“My Gods!” She hugged Jon. “Wait, I have something for you.”

She raced upstairs and came back soon with a small, red, leather box. When she opened it, she revealed a large opal surrounded by a wreath of diamonds. It was gorgeous.

“It belonged to my own mother. She loved these stones, they’re called “dragon-eyes.” I think it’s fitting the woman you’re marrying.”

“Thank you, Aunt Lyanna.”

“When will you ask her?”  
“Tonight.”

“I wish you the best of fortune.”

They walked back upstairs, ring in his pocket. They talked over drinks and then Dany noticed how late it is.

“I think I need to drive Arianne home.” Said Dany, getting up. Jon panicked, but Yara acted.

“Give me the keys, I’ll get her home safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re dead tired woman, you need your rest.”

“Okay. Arianne, call in here from Sunspear. And you too, Yara.”

“No problem, Dragon lady.”

Dany smiled.

“Gendry, Sam, you too stay here too.” Said Lyanna. “Especially you, Gendry. You look like hell.”

“Thank you.” They said both in union, Gendry’s voice sullen. They were all going to bed, except for Robb, Lyanna and Marge. After Jon and Dany left, Lyanna leaned over.

“Jon is going to ask Dany, tonight.”

Robb and Marge exchanged looks.

“Should we spy on them?”

“Perhaps.”

Upstairs, Jon and Dany were laying on his bed, just listening to each other’s breathing.

“Jon, I must tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“When we met, I thought nothing will ever happen of us.”  
“Why?”

“Because, I go through phases when it comes to love. I am nothing that you want.”

He got up, pulling Dany up with him.

“You are everything I want.” He fumbled through his pocket and pulled out a box. “I actually had a small speech prepared and everything, but it went to shit when I realised that I cannot put into words how I feel about you. Daenerys Visenya Aelinor Targaryen, will you be mine from this day to my last?”

She looked down at his hands and then at his face.

“Yes.”

Jon grabbed her face and kissed her.

In front of the door, the trio was listening to the proposal. They all hugged each other and rejoiced.

“Fucking finally.” Said Robb. “I remember when Jon told me he liked her. I thought no fucking way, but look at it, there is a way!”

Marge and Robb walked back to their wing of the Stark manor, in silence. They had their issues, but they were working on them. The night at the Lannister’s was an eye opener, but they managed to find middle ground. For their own sake. They didn’t talk at first for a week after, but Robb decided he couldn’t spend a lifetime with a quiet wife. And Margaery… Yes, she had her faults and flaws, but was a good listener, a kind person when you scrape the layers of anger and alcohol, and she loved until her breathing stopped. Her inner kindness and warmth shone when she revealed her true face, not the mask of the party girl she usually wore. Her dark circles even got smaller. Robb nudged her with his shoulder.

“Why so quiet, Mrs Stark?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t feel like talking tonight.”

“Are you okay?” Stopped Robb.

She laughed. “I’m teasing you, silly.”

“Okay. Got to tell me anything?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, okay.” Robb continued walking. “Wait, what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a small break after this one, I've been writing like a lunatic, I really need some time to see where the hell is this trainwreck going.


	17. Sins And Sinners

The sun came up, washing the bedroom Robb and Margaery occupied with warmth. They haven’t closed an eye that night, talking about what happened between them and what was to happen. Robb gave her his promise. And she gave him hers.

“Seems like we’re growing up.” Said Robb.

“If only we did it on time.” Laughed Marge.

“I think it’s too late have regrets. I want this baby. I hope you, too.”

Since they promised to be honest with each other, she had to be.

“When I realised I was, at first, I wanted to scream because I’m afraid to fuck up a human being that depends on me, but, I realised I have to be a better person and that my lecherous, drunken ways have to change. Not that there is something wrong wit living like that, but I have changed a lot since we married. I don’t want to be desperate party girl any more.”

“You know what is next.” Whispered Robb. She leaned on his chest, inhaling deeply.

“Can that wait until the baby is born?”

“No, Marge, it can’t.”

“Let’s get over with this, shall we?” She grabbed his hand and they walked over to the privy that belonged to Eddard Stark. Robb knocked and entered, seeing both of his parents there, his father buried in some paperwork and his mother helping him out.

“Good morning, Mum and Dad.” Smiled Robb.

“Robb, why are you awake at 6 AM?” Asked Catelyn, looking concerned. The young couple exchanged glances and Margaery nodded.

“Marge is, um, having a baby. That is, we are having one.”

The older Stark’s stopped in their tracks. Ned and Catelyn got up and hugged the young couple, wishing them all the best, saying words of congratulations. Ned Stark wiped a tear, happy for his son and daughter-in-law.

“This needs to be celebrated!”Said Catelyn. There was another knock at the privy. Confused, Catelyn opened the door to Jon and Daenerys, who looked beaming. Noticing Robb and Marge there too, Jon wondered what in the world happened, until Ned patted him on the back.

“Margaery is pregnant, Jon! You’re going to be an uncle again!”

Jon and Dany exchanged concerned looks.

“Well. Congratulations, guys!”

“And why are you here this early?” Asked Catelyn, clearly confused at everyone swarming the office.

“We got engaged.” Said Jon, pointing at Dany, who rose her hand to show off the ring. Ned could only smile. His family was happy, and in the end, that is all that matters.

“All good news today, Cat.”

“So it seems.”

Ned gave a hand to Dany, shaking it.

“Welcome to the family, Daenerys. It’s an honour to have you.”

“Thank you, Mr Stark.”

“We need to notify the Tyrell’s and Targaryen’s, and celebrate all of this. Days like these must be cherished and loved, for they are rare.”

Robb rolled his eyes, and Margaery nudged him. “I’ll call my father, to let him know.”

“Is this his first grandchild?” Asked Catelyn.

“It is, indeed. My brothers are all unmarried.”

“Ah yes, I forgot. Rumour has it Willas is engaged.”

“They’re not yet announcing anything. There were talks of Allyria Dayne but my father wants Arianne Martell for Willas.”

“And what does Arianne think of that?” Asked Ned.

“I know Arianne. She would eat Willas alive.” Margaery shrugged. “Allyria is just right for Willas, she is as gentle as he is.” At the mention of the Dayne name, a silence fell between the older Stark’s. Margaery picked up the phone and sat down, listening to the ringing.

“Good morning, Mum, is that here? Yes, I’ll wait. Okay, now you’re both here? Robb and I have some big, important news. We’re expecting.”

Ned could hear the excited shriek on the other side and Marge pulled the phone away from her face.

“Yes Dad, I know. Don’t worry. And please don’t tell Granny. We’ll come over today to see her, for a surprise.”

“I have to admit, today, my heart is full.” Said Ned, hugging both of his sons. After light breakfast, the pairs went their separate ways. Dany and Jon arrived at Dragonstone, where Rhaegar, Elia, their children, Aerys, Rhaella and Viserys, who came home to visit were having tea and talking, in the gardens of Dragonstone. Jon swore that if spring was eternal it would look like the gardens in Dragonstone. There were broad, shaped like steps, with all kinds of plants, flowers, trees and fruits. Little Aegon was attempting to walk on his chubby legs while Rhaenys was coaxing him to walk to her. Dany smiled at the sight.

“Good day, my beloved family.”

“Oh, hello, you two! Come over here, grab some desert!” Offered the matriarch. Jon and Dany walked down, hand in hand, smiling. It was Elia who noticed the ring first, but decided to stay quiet. Jon showed Dany to step in front of him and she gave her family the brightest smile she could.

“We got engaged.”

The entire Dragon family got up to greet their newest member, exchanging hugs and kisses.

“This calls for a celebration!” Said Aerys. “It’s not like my only daughter gets engaged everyday. Rhaella, how much will it take to plan a proper event here?”

“Give me three days.” She hugged Jon again. “It’s lovely to have you in our family, Jon.”

“Thank you, Mrs Targaryen.”  
Elia walked over to Dany, toying with her hair. “Darling, I’m requesting to be Maid of Honour, you have no other option.”Dany laughed and hugged her.

Back in Highgarden, Mace and Allerie Tyrell were waiting for their daughter and son-in-law to arrive. Standing in front of their door, they welcomed them with open arms.

“Congratulations, congratulations!”

“Thank you.” They said in union. Mace hugged his daughter. “Mother is in the garden, go tell her. Robb, come in, we have to ask you something.”

Marge practically raced to the gardens. Her grandmother and Loras were seated in the shadow of a willow tree, she was reading and Loras was lying in the sun.

“Granny!” Shouted Marge, holding her hat so it wouldn’t fall off from the sweeping wind. The elderly woman smiled. Nothing brought joy to her heart like her granddaughter. The apple of her eyes, her successor in every way possible. Olenna was proud how well Margaery played with that marriage, positioning herself in the middle of the game.

“Granny, I have some exciting news!”

“Well, sit down.” Smiled Olenna, patting the spot next to her. “Tell your Nana what is going on.”

“Nana, I’m pregnant.” The elderly woman’s eyes lit up. People rarely live to see their grandchildren grow up, but their great-grandchildren? She wiped a happy tear and hugged her granddaughter.

“Congratulations, my little rose.” Margaery smiled over her shoulder, eyeing Loras, who had a look of utter shock and surprise on his face. He mouthed “What?” and Marge’s lips curved into a smile. She looked happy, yet Loras was afraid that he’d lose his big sister. He hadn’t seen her in a while. She was rarely there any more, the lake house empty, save for him and Renly.

“Congratulations, Marge. I can’t wait to be an uncle.”

 

The flies were feasting of the rotting corpse strapped to a pole. Garland was taking notes while the CSI was taking pictures. The man suffered a horrible fate. He was battered to death, his body bruised, ruined and bloody. His face was almost unrecognisable, but his ID helped in his identification. Garland Tyrell covered his face with a tissue, coughing. The stench was the worst thing. The odour reminded him of rotten pig’s flesh, spoiled eggs and alcohol. But what truly mind boggled him was the red-eyed kraken painted above the corpse and a note in black ink pinned on him that sad “Euron Greyjoy sends his regards.” What the hell was wrong with him? After years and years of living in the shadows, the man finally comes out like this? Even a fool like Commissioner Baratheon was capable of issuing an arrest warrant on him. Garland looked around and shrugged. It was all confusing. The CSI, Arys Oakheart, gave him a strange look.

“What in the seven hells is he thinking? This is it, we got him!” Exclaimed the young man, shaking his head. “Is he playing some kind of trick on us?”

“I’m at a loss for words, Oakheart, let’ wait for the commissioner and see what he has to say. But, if this is it, we got him. He is to be arrested and tried eventually. God, I hope he gets the death penalty.”

“With his track record? Of course he will. Do you think they will accuse him of the child slaughters?”  
“No, that’s a serial killer, but he is inactive now. But, Tyrell, fuck it, we got him!” In a moment of happiness, they hugged.

“Baratheon will take credit, but out souls will be at peace knowing that monster isn’t roaming the streets any more.”

“Where the hell is Baratheon?”

There was a sound of tires screeching and a loud honk. Stannis walked out of the car, slamming the door. Dressed in a beige trench coat and grey fedora, he melted into the background of the equally grey city. Stannis looked around, covering the lower part of his face with his hand.

“And what happened to this poor bastard?”  
“Euron Greyjoy.”  
“And how can we prove that?” Oakheart gave him the note. Stannis’ hands started to shake. After twenty fucking years, Euron Greyjoy was his. It was time to call in the press, issue that warrant, stage a raid and finally put him behind bars.

“This is a historic day. Call in the press. Call in the mayor. Call in the Seven. I’ve waited for this my entire fucking life.”  
The Daily Raven gathered in front of the police station where a microphone was placed along with a small stage where Garland Tyrell and Arys Oakheart were present. Aerys Targaryen decided to watch the event from his office window, as the City Hall was across the police station. Baratheon looked like he will burst with pride and happiness. Grasping the podium, he finally red the proclamation.

“Today, is a historic day for our city, as we finally have the chance to bring to justice a monster in human form. I am proud to say that I am issuing a warrant for the arrest of Euron Rodrik Greyjoy. Anyone who is withholding any information that is inhibiting his arrest will be arrested to as an accomplice.”

The crowds clapped and shouted for Stannis. He felt proud, as his time finally came. This is why he joined the police, like his father and brother supposed to but failed. To serve the people and leave a grand legacy.

He came home, as happy as he ever was, but Shireen was at school and Selyse was visiting her sister. Later, he would tell them. There was some mail so he decided to go through it. Bills, bills, bills and a red envelope at the bottom. He wondered if it had something to do with Melisandre, so he opened it eagerly. It was something square wrapped in a piece of paper. He first unrolled the piece of paper. It had a message in black ink on it, saying “Be careful”. And the square object? A picture of him Melisandre took during their sessions.

 

Dragonstone was flooded with the cream of society for the engagement announcement of Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Stark. Rhaella truly outdid herself with this one. Everything was decked in all, snow white, with various white roses and orchids placed as decorations. There was a small orchestra playing in the background, guests already arriving. The fathers, Ned and Aerys, were engaged in deep conversation. They were waiting for their children to descend the stairs and present themselves as an engaged couple for the first time. Jon was waiting for Dany in front of her room. Dany walked out, clad in a simple gown, made out of sparkling, lilac fabric. Jon’s eyes widened at the sight of her.

“You look like a dream.”

“Thank you.” He offered her a hand and they descendent the giant staircase together, greeted by a big applause and cheers. The soft music started playing and Jon and Dany opened the dance, leading the room to follow them.

“I am a shit dancer.”

“Follow my lead, we’ll manage.” Giggled Dany.

“As always, my love.”

Jon felt like he’s going to trip over Dany’s dress and tumble down in the middle of the ball, but he felt as if she didn’t want to let him. Focusing on her eyes, Jon watched her glide over the dance floor like the expert she was, following her lead. The music stopped and the guests turned around to clap. One look from her and he was aware that he was a lost cause, gods help the fools who fall in love. What Jon enjoyed was the loss of the stern, iron mask she always wore when she was with him. What was left was just her, Dany. He sneaked a small peck on her cheek, letting her laughter fill his ears. They were greeting guests, listening to their words of congratulations. Sansa and Jaime walked up to them, Sansa clad in a soft shade of green, with a small, wolf-shaped pin on her waist. Jaime was holding her hand carefully, as she seemed frail.

“It was about bloody time.” Said Jaime, shaking both of their hands.

“And Jason will be happy to have a new aunt.” Exclaimed Sansa, pulling in Dany for a hug. “I’m happy my brother finally came to his senses. You two make a stunning couple.”

Next up were Robert and Cersei. The former Lannister was clad in a deep shade of maroon, still mourning the loss of her boy recently. Robert patted Jon on the back, wishing them happiness and good fortune. Next up was a man Jon never met, but his wife was familiar. He remembered the time he had tea with the Targaryen’s ages ago, the woman who almost fainted and her strange reaction to the Stark name.

“Congratulations, Mr Stark and Miss Targaryen. It’s lovely to see a love as this nowadays.” Said the man.

“Jon, this Barristan Selmy, he works with my father. Mr Selmy, this is Jon Stark, my future husband.”

“Pleasure to meet you, lad. You two make a striking couple.”

The wife congratulated them too.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a love match like yours. I wish you all the best.” Her eyes lingered at Jon. If only she had the courage to tell him the truth. There he was, close enough, ready for her to tell him everything, and yet… She couldn’t. Ashara slipped away to the shadows, her figure escaping the crowds. And then she spotted Ned Stark exiting the bathroom, fixing his cuffs. She stood there, watching him. Once the Stark rose his head, Ashara felt her breath hitch.

“Hello, Ned.”  
“Ashara.”

“I’m sorry for the other day. I felt attacked.”

“It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Thank you, Ned.” He wanted to leave but felt something pulling him there, to stay, like a magnetic force. He loved Cat, but Ashara had been his first love, his first spring, his youth. But that was all over.

“I have missed you.” She stated, lips trembling. He wasn’t sure what to say, but then he noticed Barristan Selmy roaming the ballroom. He will revise his sins another day.

“Ashara, I think someone is looking for you.”

“It seems like he is. Goodbye, Ned.”

She left, Ned watching her leave. This was one of the many times that happened. The music continued, as did the party. It’s been a while since Jaime Lannister danced elegantly. Since his own wedding, that is. He offered a hand to Sansa and she accepted. Their dance was slow, but careful, making sure none of them trips.

“You look lovely in that dress.”

“And you look very handsome yourself.”

He removed an unruly strand of hair from her face, making her blush ever so slightly. Perhaps, their love for one another wasn’t this passionate, insane, insatiable fire, but Sansa grew to love him for the kindness and affection he showed her, and of course, little Jason. Sansa smiled thinking about his pudgy little cheeks.

“Jaime, do you think that Joffrey...”

“I think it’s redundant we think about a dead kid now.”

“He was your nephew, after all.”

“Very true, but there was something vile in him, something that we don’t yet understand.”

Gendry carefully took a sip of an alcoholic beverage he smuggled in. He really needed some liquid courage tonight, as he hated these gatherings. He spotted another face, Arya Stark, cross-legged on a settee and alone. Gendry took a seat next to her, watching her bored facial expression.

“Why so, sullen Stark? Or is that just a family tradition among you?” She rolled her big grey eyes, not even looking at him. Arya knew one glance would make her blush. Gendry was stupidly attractive to her, something she never allowed anyone to see. He had a handsome face and a stupid smile that could make her heart melt.

“Do you dance, Stark?”

“The fuck you asking me?”

“Oh wow! Language, Missy.”

“I’ve heard you curse worse when you hang out with my brothers.”

“True. But I’m not a lady.”  
“Well, I’m not that, either.”

Gendry observed her dress. It was of a dark, navy colour, almost masculine in shape and cut, making her look serious and stern. He never paid attention to anyone’s clothes, but he found it interesting that Arya wore a dress that wasn’t really a dress.

“But you are a lady. You were raised to be one.”

“Hm, ‘raised’ is a good term. But, I’m not. Never will be.”

“Then, Arya, not lady, will you dance with me.” She hesitated a little at first, but said yes. They got up and Gendry straightened his back. There was quite a height difference between them, but he’d make it work. He offered her an arm and she took it gladly, and so it begun. She let Gendry and the music carry her, enjoying herself for a while. She looked up and saw Gendry’s face adoringly gazing at her, a rush of blood coming to her cheeks.

“For someone who claims they don’t dance, you do pretty well.”

“Shut up.”  
The looked at each other for a while, until Gendry started to laugh.

“What?” She asked, all annoyed.

“Nothing.”

She pulled out of his embrace. “Then find yourself a new partner.”

 

Back home, Sansa was playing with Jason, he was sprawled on the carpet, toying with a plush wolf he received from Jon. She smiled as he cooed, chewing his little finger. She wondered if she wanted more, or if this was it for her. She recalled her own childhood, one time in particular, when Robb and Jon painted their faces purple and green and pretended to be monsters and chased them around. Rickon and Bran were tiny, so they each would take one and place them on the shoulders, chasing Sansa and Arya around. Speaking of the three of them, it was time for them to visit. Arya was last at the door, Bran and Rickon jumping into their sister’s arms. He nuzzled them for a while, ruffling their hair.

“And how are my favourite little trouble makers?”

“We missed you.” Smiled Bran, still in her embrace. Rickon was already on the carpet, playing with Jason. Bran joined him, teasing his little nephew. Arya sat down next to Sansa, looking at her.

“And how are you, Mummy?”

“Shut it.”

Arya laughed, ruffling her hair now.

“And what was that with you and Gendry last night, huh?”

“What was what?”

“That little dance. He looks like he’s obsessed with you.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sansa gave her a knowing look, raising her eyebrows. Arya frowned.

“You haven’t seen shit.”

“Whatever you say, Arya.”

“Sansa, can I hold him?” Asked Rickon, pointing at Jason. Sansa nodded and pulled him up in Rickon’s arms, who let out an excited shriek.

“You truly did give birth to a small baby Lannister, huh?”

“Well, I was as surprised as you. He looks a lot like his father. But do you know who else resembles his father?”

Sansa got up and went through some family pictures, pulling out a picture from Robert and Cersei’s wedding.

“Look at this.”

“Sansa, I swear… Oh wow. Gendry and Robert look like twins.”

“I know! I was shocked, too.”  
Arya observed the photograph, shaking off the initial thought. It didn’t matter now.

“I don’t care. Honestly, I don’t care.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

They both laid down in the carpet, like back when they were children.

“You know, sometimes I regret for not asking dad about Jon and that entire mess.”

“You mean, Jon’s mother?”  
“Did it ever bite you who it was?”

“It did. But it must be the worst for Jon.”

“And now, that he’s getting married...”

“True, but if Jon needed to know, Dad would tell him. He always does the right thing.” Said Sansa, sure of her answer.

“And the right thing was not to tell Jon?”

“Perhaps...”

“Rickon be careful! Who is dumb enough to harm a child!”

“I would never harm him, he just bit me!”

“Oh sorry about that, he’s teething.”

Sansa picked him up, carrying him to bed.


	18. Poison

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Asked Elia, looking down at her niece Arianne climbing down a window. Arianne, clad in a sparkly, low-cut, mikado gown, citrine earrings and red lipstick looked twice her age. Perhaps she’d look even better had she not been hanging upside down from her window on a bed sheet, with a friend waiting for her underneath. Elia was walking into the yard she grew up in, along with her son and daughter.

“You’ve seen nothing.”

“My brother, your father is in that house.”

“Just, shut up and let me live my life.”

“Arianne, you can’t expect me to keep this from my brother.” Arianne finished climbing down and fixed her dress.

“Considering how much you’re here, I’m shocked you didn’t pick up sooner on my nocturnal adventures. Didn’t Grandma Loreza give you strict curfews?”

“She did and that’s why I’m responsible and serious now.”

“But that’s not fun, and I don’t want to be like that. Tell Dad. I don’t care any more. I’m 19, I can make my own decisions.”

“Your teen idle will cost you something, Arianne.”

“And what can it cost me, hm? Do you ever regret your youth? The years you spent sitting with your mother instead of going out?”  
Elia truly wished she was like Arianne in her youth. Whereas Elia didn’t have the courage to put on a nice dress and go out, Arianne put on a dress, lipstick, gathered some friends and went to a party. Whereas Elia spent her teen years doing what she told, Arianne rebelled in every way possible.

“You truly are your mother’s child, Arianne.” Mellario was a rainstorm like her daughter, whereas Elia was a gentle rain.

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

The only thing Elia registered was the sound of Arianne’s heels on the pavement. Her youth, spent in confinement due her frail health, cost her friends, loves and happiness. It was an utter and complete shock when the most eligible bachelor of that time, Rhaegar Targaryen, got on his knee and asked her for her hand in marriage, after seeing her on only three big events. That was something after the prohibition started. And then she remembered her wedding day, the big lacy dress and her father walking her down the isle, the music and how happy everyone looked. Then came the children, but Rhaegar was long gone before he even proposed to her. Whatever was torturing his soul, would leave her own barren, craving love and attention that she was starved off. Her world are now Rhaenys and Aegon, both toddlers. She wanted a third, like in a home she grew up in, alas, highly unlikely. Rhaegar, wherever he was, was in his books which somehow turned successful. Elia didn’t want her life to become dull, so she maintained a close relationship with Doran. Her older brother had two children, Arianne and Trystane, while her younger, Oberyn, had four daughters, Obara, Nymeria, Sarella and her namesake, Elia. She loved being there, in Sunspear, with her brothers and family. Unfortunately, Rhaenys was somewhat like her, but Aegon was a spitting image of his grandfather and father. He was close with them, as distant as she was, and he needed his grandparents always. Elia wished she stayed a spinster sometimes.

“Doran.” She smiled, giving him a hug.

“My Elia. How are you?”

“I’m doing good.” Arianne’s secret will stay a secret. “And you?”

“I’m well, my health is finally kind to me. I need to ask, where is Rhaegar?”

“I think he is meeting up with a friend.”

Rhaegar wanted to slap Arthur for dragging him to an illegal bar. The place was stacked with familiar and unfamiliar faces, lonely hearts and people begging for new starts. The music was loud enough to wake a dragon, people dancing like it’s their last. The first shocker of the night was his brother-in-law, which Arthur informed him is one of the owners. Oberyn was up with some guests, telling them a story over a bottle of whiskey. The other owner, Jaime Lannister, was dancing with his wife, spinning and twisting her around, making her giggle like a schoolgirl. The third owner, Bronn, was behind the bar, with someone who looked like Robert Baratheon and another boy, about the same age as the Baratheon boy. The other shocker was his little sister, clad in a long, sleek black dress, with a deep v neck, a boa, pearls in her hair and boyfriend around her, laughing at some joke Oberyn told. She was snuggled in Jon’s lap, his head on her shoulder. What kind of warped version of reality was this? Then he noticed someone joining them around the table, he recognised Robb, Margaery and Lyanna Stark, and a girl that resembled Lyanna Stark. Wasn’t the new Mrs Stark expecting? The music banged even louder, making Rhaegar regret he’s there.

“Arthur, you wretched fool, this is the last time...”

“Look. I can’t stand your depressed face. Smile, damn it. Have fun, go out.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s the spirit!”

His sister and her husband to be got up and walked over to the dance floor, grabbing each other’s hands and dancing. The Tyrell girl nudged her husband and now they were joining them, enjoying their night. If only Rhaegar was capable of that. Jaime and Sansa walked to the bar, tapping at Gendry to get them something.

“I’m going to check up on Arya, be right back.”

“Of course.” She left after a quick peck.

“Uncle Jaime, I need advice.”

“Oh dear, do tell.”

“I like Arya but I don’t know what to do.”

“You like Arya Stark?”

“Yes.”

“Well, good luck in your future endeavours.”

“Uncle Jaime!”

“Ask her out. You’re a good-looking lad. Smile at her, be nice.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Take a shot of something and go.”

Gendry stared at the pile of alcohol in front of him. He gulped, opening a bottle of cognac and sipped a little, then a little more, until he felt dizzy.

“Oi, Sam!”

“Yes?”

“I want to hug you.”

“Oh dear, okay.”

After an awkward hug, Gendry lightly patted Sam’s head and leaned on the bar, serving drinks. First up, were Jon and Daenerys.

“Gendry!” Asked Dany, looking him up and down. “How much did you drink?”

“Guess.”

“We’re fucked.” Stated Jon.

“You maybe, tonight, but me? I am having the time of my life.”

Arya was next, requesting a vodka lemonade. Gendry, seeing his crush, turned into an even deeper maroon shade.

“If I had blonde hair I would look like the fucking Lannister logo.” Shrieked the bartender, looking at his reflection in a mirror above the bar, causing Arya to laugh out loud. She wiped a tear.

“You look like a poppy!”

Gendry slouched on her shoulder, hanging over the bar, laughing even louder. Arya held him up, grabbing his face. He leaned on his elbows, listening to Arya.

“You are a fucking idiot, Gendry Baratheon.”

“And you, Arya Stark, are pure magic.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something but Dany put a finger on his mouth, pulling him back, letting Gendry do his magic.

“I am what now?”

“Magic, like fairy dust and shit...”

“Gendry, you’re drunk.”

“Prove it!”

“If you weren’t so handsome I’d drop your head on this counter.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you like me too much...” He gave her a little kiss on the cheek and then tumbled down. Bronn picked him up, shaking his head.

“This one lacks his dad’s alcohol capacity. Old Robert can drink a barrel and not even blink.”

“Oh dear, what should we do with him?”

“Can someone slap him a few times and give him a little water?”

Arya rose her hand, going with Gendry and Bronn inside the storage, where Bronn placed Gendry on a chair, letting him stare around. He excited the room and went to take Gendry’s place.

“Are you stupid or stupid?”

“Both.”

“Amazing.” She said, cleaning his forehead with water. “You are a bloody idiot, Gendry Steffon Baratheon.”  
“You remembered!” He laughed, leaning against the chair. Back in the bar, Lyanna was looking for Arya, instead to bump in Jon and Dany making out in the corner, red lipstick smudged all over Jon’s face, making him look redder then he actually was.

“Aunt Lyanna! Didn’t see you there...” He said, scratching the back of his head.

“You two keep having your fun.” She looked around. “Where is Arya?”

“Arya is getting Gendry sober, he had a little too much to drink, nothing serious.” Winked Dany.

“Fucking finally! I was wondering when he would finally make a move!”  
“You two knew this?”

“Of course we did. We notice it.” Said Dany, as a matter-of-fact.

“Seven hells… Ah, that’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“Is he drunk?” Asked Lyanna.

“A little.” Replied Dany, laughing.

“You two keep having fun, I’ll look around.”

Jon returned to Dany’s face, kept licking her lips until she finally opened them for him, leaving then a trail around her neck, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer.

“Remember the time you said you can’t have children?”

“Yes…?”

“Wanna bet?”

Yara Greyjoy was nearly late, but she made it before she missed the main rush. She encountered a new-old face, Arianne Martell. Laughing, Yara gave her a hug from the back, teasing her.

“Look at you… Old Doran Martell moved up your curfew?”

“No.”

“I like that. How are you, Princess?”

“Since when am I a Princess?”

“You do act like one.”

Arianne stuck out her tongue. “And what about that, Greyjoy?” Yara just smirked.

Lyanna roamed the club, bumping into strangers until she finally got comfortable in one spot at a half-empty table. She looked around, wishing she declined the offer for tonight, she should have stayed home and worked. Instead, she was greeted with drunken fools, loud music and waves of occasional boredom. She felt someone sit next to her. Turning around, she was greeted by the handsome silver of Rhaegar Targaryen. She has only seen him three times in her life, the last and most recent being the engagement party. He was handsome, she thought, staring at his jawline and cheekbones, sculpted by the gods themselves. The wedding ring on his finger made her come back from the clouds. And he was too young for her, anyway. He was certainly handsome, but she recalled seeing him as a little boy, when she dropped off his mother after attending a party with her. Lyanna had been sixteen at the time and Rhaegar had been 10 or 11, as Rhaella had him aged just sixteen. The memory of his strange teenage years made Lyanna giggle, thinking about the boy with his head in books and eyes in the sky. She was surprised how quickly he had settled down, as Lyanna believed he’d remain unmarried.

“It’s been a while, Miss Stark.”

“I suppose, Mr Targaryen.”

“I’m Rhaegar.”

“But I’m still Miss Stark.” His face turned into a smirk.

“Tell me, what are you doing here?”

“I was dragged by my nephews and nieces and their significant others to this lovely fest.”

“This feels like hell, Miss Stark.”

“Hell? Aren’t you a little spoiled… Rhaella always called you “My darling boy”.”

Rhaegar rolled his eyes.

“Now, I doubted that you’d stoop so low, Miss Stark. I always considered you a lady.”

“I am a lady with the liver of a sailor.”

“Wait, you’re drunk?”

“I had a little, yes.”

“Oh dear, are you feeling fine, do you need help?”

“I’m not a lightweight like Gendry. I was a party animal before you’re born.”

“Aren’t you like six years older then me?”

“Shut it.”

“Okay.”

"So... What is your poison?" Rhaegar's eyes widened, he swallowed and looked down. "Can't tell you."

She started laughing and he joined her, enjoying her laughter. She smiled like a wolf, revealing her teeth to him. Lyanna was a stunning woman, with long, dark hair and grey eyes, a heart shaped face and big cheeks and cheekbones. She had a spark which the Targaryen hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Looks like it’s time to go. Sorry, Rhaegar, it was nice catching up with you.” She tapped his shoulder and grabbed the passed out Baratheon, helping Jon and Robb carry him.

In the morning, Lyanna and her nephews and nieces and their spouses flooded the living room, save Arya and Gendry, since he was upstairs sleeping and Arya was making sure he doesn’t start vomiting. Marge was knocked down too, she was just tired as she was pregnant, for now, head in Robb’s lap, sleeping. Sansa picked up a lipstick and drew a moustache on her, both Robb and her covering their mouths in laughter, Lyanna and Dany serving tea to everyone, talking about last night. Tyrion Lannister arrived last, as he wasn’t present at the bar last night, he was busy concluding something for the Lannister company.

“Jaime, if you and Sansa are here, who is watching Jason?” Asked Lyanna.

“My father.”

Lyanna put down her teacup. Tyrion, trying to withhold his laughter, told them how the old man was sleeping in the rocking chair in the nursery, checking on his grandson every moment. Sansa slapped her forehead, laughing.

“And?”  
“Well, he sleeps a little, then jumps up, looks at Jason and goes back to the chair. It’s heart warming what a few pounds of cuteness can do to the old man.”  
Dany poured the last amount of tea, yawning.

“I think I saw my brother last night.”

“He was there, I talked to him. He’s like a fish out of water.”

“Poor Rhaegar. He never fits in.”

“What?”

“He has always been different, as if he wasn’t a part of this world.”

“Huh, a strange way to describe him.” Responded Tyrion, thinking of every encounter with the eldest Targaryen child. Lyanna leaned on the couch, remembering last night, as if it all played out in her head.

 

Dany slapped the table in her underground layer, marking a map for Euron’s movements. He’s been killing small fish lately, nothing too serious. Dany wondered what made him calm down after gunning down his own brother in broad daylight. But then, out of the blue, he signs a murder and Stannis can finally issue a warrant? Something was fishy, indeed. Missandei looked over Dany as she connected the dots with thread, trying to see if the events were somehow connected. But there was nothing.

“What is his endgame? To murder everyone?”

“My opinion on it is that he is a lunatic.”

“Ma’am, I believe you should leave it alone. You could get hurt.” Said Jorah Mormont, although no one asked. Daenerys rolled her eyes, wishing Euron gets hurt.

“Who gets hurt and who doesn’t is beyond your reach, Mr Mormont."

“Very well.”

She pinned the map up, looking at it now from a greater distance. The incidents were focused on the centre, like an earthquake. It just didn’t make sense. Although, the map Dany had was the “legal” map of the city. Underground tunnels, which maybe five people were aware existed, which she used to transport through the city, were not marked. Neither was “The Mockingbird”, the bar, and some other illegal hotspots, so she took some black ink and drew crosses on the map. She prayed to the gods that Euron wasn’t aware of the existence of “The Vault”, which was the official-unofficial name of the bar. She was their only supplier, as for other 30 spots. Even a blind man could notice them, but the police either ignored them entirely or frequented them themselves. Missandei looked at her boss’ left ring finger, spotting a large, milky, almost lilac in the dim light, opal surrounded by diamonds.

“Where did you get that dragon egg?”

“Huh?” Asked Dany.

“The opal on your hand.”

“Oh, it’s an engagement ring.” Smiled Dany. “I didn’t know they were called dragon eggs.”  
“Dragon eggs or dragon eyes. And congratulations.”

Jorah felt as if someone stabbed him in the stomach. He will never forget the day he met Daenerys Targaryen. He was left penniless and broke after his wife left him, almost on the verge of bankruptcy. And then, after months of strange back-alley jobs, he was offered a job as a chauffeur and bodyguard, but he got something even precious: Daenerys herself. And then there were her lovers and suitors, all cast aside when they bored her, but Jorah watched, waiting and waiting. He though the last boy was one of many, but it seems, he had captured her heart, which was now to be his forever, once they wed in the Sept as her parents did. But his parents didn’t. Jorah sucked his tears up, listening.

“And when is the wedding?”  
“Next summer, the ceremony at the Sept and the reception will either be in the gardens of Dragonstone or The Lion and The Sun.”

“And your wedding dress?”  
“Jon’s aunt is on it, I can’t wait to see what she has in mind.”

“Oh, I can’t wait! You will be the most beautiful bride!”  
“But, is it a good match?” Interrupted Jorah, his hands shaking. “As he is illegitimate?”  
“It is a good as any. I love him. Jon’s legitimacy does not matter to me. And whatever people say, they can shove it up where the sun doesn’t shine.” Said Daenerys, crossing her arms. Missandei cowered her mouth, laughing.

“And get me Grey and Aggo, I have a job for them.”

 

Gendry woke up with the worst possible headache he ever had. Groaning, he opened his eyes regretted the decision and rolled back in bed. And then he felt the ice cold water of reality. Or, Arya Stark with a glass.

“The fuck, Arya?”  
“Get up!”  
“NO! And stop yelling!”

She opened the curtains and windows, letting fresh air and sunshine in. Gendry’s anguish just grew and he hid like an ostrich. Arya got on his back, shaking him.

“You need to get up and face the world.”

“No.”  
“Gendry! It’s almost noon!”

“So what?” He asked, tumbling Arya over so he was now on top of her, facing her. Resting on his elbows, making sure his body weight doesn’t smother the petite wolf girl, he looked into her eyes, pupils blown. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and perhaps his too.

“You smell like whiskey.”

“Sorry.”

They remained that way for a while, Arya’s arms on his shoulders, until she pushed him off and got up, fixing her clothes.

“Just get up and go, your family must be concerned.”

“If you say so.” He never wanted to leave. He had a distant father, an angry mother and two sad little siblings to think of. Walking back into the mansion, he was greeted by his mother’s icy stare. Cersei was leaning against the bannister, giving him a look that rivalled his grandfather.

“Where were you?” Her hair was in a nest, robe and pyjamas a mess, as he never saw his mother in anything but perfect hairdos, dresses and make up.

“I was with some friends.”  
“What friends?”  
“Robb and Jon...” And Arya.

“Why didn’t you call?”  
“It was late.”  
“Gendry!” She screamed. “I was dying with concern!”  
“Oh what now, that Joff is gone, you need another child to smother?”

She nearly broke the bannister.

“How dare you...”

“I’m speaking the truth. You only ever cared for him and him only. And now that he’s gone, you have nothing to do. Leave me alone as I was. I don’t want your smothering, mothering, whatever.”

She started crying, tears down her face. Why couldn’t she just love her children in peace? Gendry was Robert’s through and though, she never saw anything of herself, ever, until now. There words were spoken as if out of her own mouth. Gendry turned his back and went to his room, to wash off the whiskey and poison that was eating him inside out.


	19. So It Begins

Stannis Baratheon was adamant about arresting Euron Greyjoy. For him, another possibility plainly simply did not exist. And the picture was mostly useless, one couldn’t really make out it was him. The warrant was still up, along with a “Wanted” poster. He was wrapping up for tonight, as Garland Tyrell announced they arrested a small time smuggler. Tyrell explained that he had six bottles on him, to which Stannis responded with the usual fine and 2 months in jail.

“Isn’t that a bit too harsh?”

“The law is the law. Alcohol is forbidden, as it should be.”

“Very well… And what are we doing with “Crowseye”, sir?”

“For now, nothing until we find him.”

“Very well.” Garland, like many, deeply disagreed with the prohibition. He knew one can never ban alcohol, especially during these times when no one was safe. And Baratheon was a bloody fool, trying to follow the rules. He could remember every single time someone who committed a petty crime offered them information on Greyjoy in exchange for freedom, which Stannis refused. How many people knew something? Perhaps, he would have been hanged a long time ago. But that wasn’t something to dwell on. He had to go to a meeting with the mayor. Any sane man is afraid of Aerys Targaryen. There was something in his eyes that made people piss themselves and run when they were in his presence. The last mayor, Euron’s own brother, was gunned down, probably by Euron himself, so then they elect the scariest creature the city has to offer. It wasn’t his looks, he looked normal and actually really good for his age, but it was his demeanour and icy voice that made people follow his commands. He recalled that Tywin Lannister and he were friends once, so he imagined that friendship and the fear they must have inspired. The secretary let him in. He swallowed, seeing Aerys’ head behind a pile of paperwork, quietly working.

“Do take a seat, Detective Tyrell.”

Garland sat down, hands on his knees. The mayor got up, taking off his working glasses, making him seem somehow, ageless. He thought, his entire family with their silvery hair, looked ageless, as if they belong to another species or another world. He remembered seeing Daenerys, his daughter, on events once or twice, thinking she’s inhumanely beautiful. Shame she’s engaged now. She looked like a diamond, shame that a girl like that is marrying a bastard. He’d ask, but he had a feeling that the Targaryen just might bite his head off.

“I’m glad that you have agreed to come here. I need to ask a favour of you.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You know, this Euron Greyjoy thing is getting out of hand. People are dying, living in fear and Baratheon does nothing.”

“And what do you want to do?”

“I want to replace him. I’m tired of his incompetency and disability to find that dam kraken. I’ve seen the warrant, yes, but we both know Euron will swindle around it. We need someone much tougher to take down Greyjoy.”

“So, what do you want?”

“I want what’s best for the police force. Get Stannis to retire and find a better commissioner.”

“He’s barely 50, sir.”

“We’ll think of something. For now, I will need you to be my eyes and ears, for which you will be rewarded. Do we have a deal, Detective Tyrell?”

“We do, Sir.”

“And don’t disappoint me. Too many have.”

Garland swallowed a lump in his throat.

 

Ros combed her hair, fixing the last irregularities in her curls. Tonight was a special party, Madame Melisandre was invited too. Mr Baelish wanted to see her, so she had to look immaculate. Painting on a beauty mark, she lowered her dress and checked herself for a final time. Ygritte, who was behind her, fixing her make up, looked her up and down.

“The hell ya getting ready?”

“We have an important event tonight, even Madame Melisandre is here. Get ready, you scarecrow.”

“I ain’t a scarecrow, you bitch!”

“Anyway. I don’t have time to argue, I have to meet with Mr Baelish.”

“You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You dumb whore. He is your pimp, nothing else.”

“Quiet, or I’ll make your face even uglier. And go downstairs to greet the guests.”

“You are not the boss of me.”

“Just go!”

Ros picked the hem of her emerald green gown and went to the office she adored so much. Mr Baelish let her decorate it, so she made it boudoir-esque, with lovely yellow curtains and stained-glass lamps. Ros imagined if she had a house on her own she’d decorate it like that office. She imagined her, maybe a dog, a small one, and some children. Wouldn’t it be nice? Unfortunately, she had to be born to a prostitute and live her life out as one. She had to end up here aged 14 and starved. She had to fall in love with the man who took her in, stayed up long nights with her, and then eventually, started consorting her, calling her the most beautiful woman in the world. She felt special and beloved and she had this reoccurring dream that one day, Mr Baelish will take her hand and tell her she’s to be his wife. Then he married a rich, ugly, widow that she saw once in the car with him. She knew, nothing changed, although, he seemed more distant. Ros entered without knocking, per usual, seeing Madame Melisandre on the settee in the corner, powdering her face. She was clad in a knee-length, deep red, leather dress, matching shoes and gloves. Next to her was a red whip and a mask. She finished powdering herself and got up to take off the dress, leaving her in similar, red leather underwear. She put on her mask and waved Littlefinger off. Ros was almost enchanted by the ruby chocker she wore, wondering how much that damned thing costed. She left, followed by the loud sound of her heels clicking.

“As you see, the star of the tonight’s show has arrived. All in red leather.”

“Why red?”

“She likes it, I suppose. And how are you, Ros?”

“I’m well, now that I’m with you.”

“As charming as always. Come, it’s time to join the party downstairs.”

The people were already drinking and doing what they paid for, so she might as well wait for a customer. She noticed then Ramsay Bolton and some of his bullies come in, shouting and asking for alcohol and women. Myranda immediately got on Ramsay’s lap and started whispering to him. He called in Littlefinger, who nearly shaking, sat down.

“And Baelish? Any news?”

“What news, Mr Bolton?”

“The Dragon, fuckwit.”

“Something will come up, I promise...”

“You can’t promise. You have to deliver. You know you don’t want to be on my bad side.”

“Did somebody mention the Dragon?” Asked a young man.

“What do you know?” Turned the Flayer.

“My father is buying stashes of alcohol for his bar from him.”

“And your father is…?”

“We’re the Glovers.”

“Oh, I see, tell me more.”

The bloke kept bragging how his father has been buying from the Dragon and how good the stuff is. He kept bragging how his father and the Dragon work well together, earning eye-rolls from everyone.

“And did you see him?”

“No, never, I don’t even know what he looks like. I’ve been near him, he was in the car, waiting. All I’ve seen is a shadow in black.”

“Not even his size, anything?”

“Nothing. The car was blinded.”

“Of course. And what was the number of the dock they meet at?”

“Usually, dock 25, but there was a police car a few days ago so they moved to dock 15.”

“Thank you for the interesting conversation.” Ramsay ruffled through his pocket, pulling on a few bills and slapping them on Littlefinger’s hand. 

“I’m taking Myranda with me. Trips to your house always pay off.” His neck might be safe.

 

Sansa woke up early, put on a powder blue, thick rimmed hat and a long, billowy dress, the hat with a wolf fibula that belonged to her mother and grandmother. After getting Jason ready she put him in a pram, along with Lady on a leash and went for a little walk. The first appointment she had for the day was to visit Jaime in the restaurant and greet the guests there. Jaime was by the counter, talking to some waiters. At the sight of his father, little Jason squealed with delight, waving his little hands at him. Jaime took him in his arms gladly, watching Jason laugh and wave around. He gave Sansa a quick peck on the lips and introduced Jason to the staff.

“And this my son, Jason.”

“He is adorable.” Smiled one of the waiters. Jason got grumpy again and Jaime stared bouncing him around, making him laugh, people turning to look at the smiling baby. After a short visit, Sansa walked down the boardwalk, since she didn’t visit it ever since she got married. The docks and beaches were usually filled by young families, children, parents, young couples, teenagers… There was an amusement park there, gift shops, ice cream shops, restaurants and various forms of entertainment. The sun was mild, a slight breeze blowing. Sansa felt her own childhood coming back, memories of swimming between the rocks, Jon and Robb competing in jumping, Aunt Lyanna making sandcastles with little Bran, Rickon was just born, Mum and Dad making sandwiches for everyone… She could have sworn she was yesterday on that rock, swimming with Marge and Loras, and now she was here with a pram and her own baby in it. How time flies. Lady barked at something, so Sansa turned around to spot her newest uncle. He wasn’t an Uncle to her like Jon Arryn was, or Uncle Benjen or Edmure, he was just the man who married her least favourite aunt.

“Hello, Sansa.”

“Mr Baelish.”

“Please, dear Sansa, not so formal, we’re family after all.”

Jason got suddenly cranky, so she kissed his little face and put him back into the pram, covering him with a blanket. Littlefinger looked down in the pram, watching the baby boy being lulled to sleep. Lady barked at him again. Not paying attention, he turned to Sansa.

“And how are you?”

“I’ve been good.”

“You know, when I saw you from a distance, I thought you were your mother. She has similar hair and you dress alike. Of course, then I remembered that her children are too old for prams.”

Sansa shrugged, not taking her eyes of Jason.  
“What are you doing today?”

“Just walking my son and I’m going to have dinner at my parents’ house tonight.”

“Oh, interesting. How has motherhood been?”

“It’s been a journey, but I love my little Jason. Isn’t he just adorable?”

“He looks like his father.”

“Well, they’re related.”

Littlefinger kept looking at her, making her wish for the waves to pick him up and the sea to swallow him whole. She turned around and spotted a figure clad in a red, flowery dress and a straw hat, walking a big, dark husky. Lady recognised her brother and wanted to run to him, so Grey Wind started barking at her. Marge, clearly surprised, noticed Sansa with her pram and Littlefinger. Racing there immediately, she greeted her sister-in-law.

“Sansa! There you are! I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Sorry for being late, I bumped into Mr Baelish.”

“No, you ladies go, I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”

They quickly walked away, Margaery exchanging looks with Sansa.

“Did he make you uncomfortable?”

“Slightly.”

“Fucking hell. He deserves a punch to the face. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m less sick now, thank you. The little fellow is doing good. Not feeling the kicks just yet, but the doctor thinks in a few weeks, the little one will start kicking.”  
“That’s good to hear.”

“Sansa… I don’t want there to be any animosity between us. We’ve been distant for too long. I want us to be friends again.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Marge squeezed Sansa’s hand, smiling. It’s been a while they have been just themselves, as they were in the beginning.

“Do you want to go to my house for some tea and lemon cakes?” Asked Sansa.

“Why of course!” Marge was now pushing Jason’s pram, and Sansa took both of the dogs. Arriving at Casterly Rock, Sansa ordered some jasmine tea and her beloved lemon cakes. She put Jason back on the carpet, to watch him play with his toy train.

“His cousin will join him soon.” Smiled Sansa.

“Sansa, I’m fucking terrified, what if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing will. You know it. Robb will be there. It’s not like he will abandon you in an hour of need.”

Before Margaery could mutter another word, Tywin Lannister came back in, greeting the two women at first. Little Jason, extremely excited, threw his hands up in the air and Tywin gladly picked him up and placed a kiss on his head. Margaery rose her eyebrows in shock, clearly stunned.

“Sansa, did you take Jason out today?”

“I did.”

“Eh, I wanted too. Can I at least take him for a little walk around the gardens?”

“Of course, why not?” Little Jason kept laughing and they went outside.

“Is that a normal occurrence here?”

“As normal as it gets.”

 

Jon wanted to help Dany out tonight, so clad in all black, just like her men, he was waiting for Glover to pick up his shipment from the port. Followed by her gang, consisting of The Hound, Brienne, Aggo, Rhakkaro and some other men, all clad in black trench coats and hats, waiting for the trucks to arrive. Dock 15 was almost empty for the next half an hour, their boss herself was late, as her driver was being irresponsible. Mormont kept pressing her about the upcoming wedding, but she stayed quiet, so to prolong the trip, he drove through back alleys and dead streets on purpose. Jon was afraid Dany got into an accident, he kept checking his watch and the docks to see if the car was somewhere near. But, the honking of the Glover trucks took his attention. The younger and older Glover were present, greeting The Hound, who just gave them a quick look. Brienne opened the first crate, to show them the alcohol. Before they could even load them, two cars pulled in and started shooting. Jumping behind a crate, Jon hid from the rain of bullets. Above him, Brienne already had her gun out, shooting back. The Glovers jumped behind the truck. The Hound’s eyes glimmered in the night and he pulled out two guns and jumped on a box.

“Motherfucking cunts! Came to the wrong dock!”

After firing a quick rain, he jumped behind the box and kept shooting.

“What happens when we’re out of bullets?” Asked Jon.  
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Answered Brienne. “Duck, boy!”

Jon listened to the order and hid behind the wooden box, but still got grazed by a bullet from the Flayer. Ramsay came out the car, fired a few shots in the sky and came back to fire on the men. Aggo had a shotgun, but the issue was, he needed time to reload it.

“Jorah, we are late! I AM NEVER LATE!” Shouted Dany. He was to open his mouth, but then she heard gunshots. Panicking, she looked through the window and saw bullets being fired on the other side of the dock.

“Stop the car, now!” Before Jorah could protest, Dany opened a compartment and pulled out the “Just in case” machine gun and started loading it. Opening the sunroof, she pulled the gun up with her and started shooting. Euron’s crew, clearly shocked by the new gunfire, started packing up and jumping right back into the car, driving away, followed by screeching tire sounds. Dany threw the now empty gun in the back seat where she was, plopping down on the seat. Before she was able to make a move, she saw Jon opening the door and jumping in to hug her. They were both shaking and barely breathing.

“Are you okay?” She muttered.

“Of course.”

The Hound raced back to the car, to check on his boss. She gave him a simple order, to tell the Glover’s she is never ever working with them. The Hound obliged happily and met to meet the father and son.

“Cunts, I have some news for ya. The Dragon is never working with you again, so fuck off. And you ain’t getting nothing back. Take the booze and get the fuck out before a bust a cap up your arses.”

Before they were able to say anything, the Hound got into the car with Brienne and the Dothraki and drove off into the night, following his boss. In the back seat, Dany was holding Jon, both trying to calm down.

“How did you learn to shoot like that?”

“One must always be prepared for this in a penniless business like this one.”

“Fucking hell.” She noticed his bleeding arm and scolded him for not telling her.

“It’s not a big wound.”

“It is. Mr Mormont, please, leave us at Dragonstone. Before that, we have to pull over.”

After a brief conversation with The Hound and Brienne, Dany and Jon went back to Dragonstone and sneaked into Dany’s room. She stripped his coat and shirt and cleaned his wounds, binding them with linen. They both fell on her bed.

“What the hell.”

“This never happened before.”

“Seven hells.”

“I will understand if you’re not comfortable with this.”

“With what?”

“Me and my work.”

“Daenerys. I love you. I adore you. Some gun incident won’t change that.” He gave her a soft, chaste kiss.

“I love you too.”

“So, what now?”

“So it begins, I guess. If he wants war, he’s getting war.”


	20. Red Door

Marge felt like she’s going to burst. Her pregnancy was coming to an end, and so was her patience. The baby kept kicking and kicking her insides, as it was trying to turn upside down for the birth. Last night, she kept Robb awake due the pain the baby gave her while turning upside down. It kept pressing her bladder too, torturing her to race to the bathroom every few minutes. Robb was ready for the baby to come too, a nursery was already painted and prepared. Margaery placed flowers everywhere, as a reminded of her own childhood spend between roses and flowers, a memory of a much simpler and happier time. Margaery was not sure if she will be a good mother, but she will do her best, for now. At least, she was sure she’d love it, whatever it is. The nursery was painted a soft, light yellow hue, with similarly coloured furniture and a painting of a garden above the bassinet. Tracing the little clothes for the future Stark, Margaery finally made peace with everything that has happened in the past years. She grew up. Yes, she might have been a legal adult, but, she wanted to be a young girl forever, to stay in the lake house and have parties for no reason. Growing up meant losing those illusions of glitter and gourmet puke on carpets as the peak of the day, but gaining the image of a healthy and strong family behind you. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time to think it through, as she felt the first contractions kicking in.

“Robb!” She shouted. She could hear his footsteps upstairs.

“What is it?”

“It’s time.”

Robb nodded and walked up to her, holding her tightly and carrying her to the room they picked for her to deliver the child in. The doctor was soon called in, as did the rest of the family. The Tyrell’s were especially nervous, but Loras was distressed the most, he kept thinking of his sister struggling in the room, screaming in pain. Catelyn and Allerie were in the corner, holding hands and praying quietly. Sansa was clutching Jason, who kept chewing on his first. Eddard and Mace were quietly talking in the corner, while Lyanna and Jon were waiting for Daenerys to pick up Bran and Rickon from school. Robb kept pacing the hallway up and down, waiting for his cue.

After the third agonizing hour, Willas Tyrell arrived, carrying bouquets. He quietly congratulated everyone and took a seat. After the fourth agonizing hour, Dany came with Bran and Rickon, both giving their big brother a hug.

“Is Marge doing okay?”Asked Rickon.

“I hope she is. The doctor isn’t letting me in yet.”  
After the fifth, painful hour, the doctor asked Robb to come. Robb rolled up his sleeves and went upstairs.

“Now, it’s just a matter of time.” Said Catelyn.

“What are we naming it, Mum?” Joked Rickon.

“We can name it Brynden, for your mean uncle!” Joked Bran, earning a laugh from Jaime.

“Your Uncle, Mrs Stark. Mr Brynden, or how we called him in school “Blackfish” was the meanest principal I remember.” Recalled Jaime.

“He was still principal when we were in school.” Added Jon. “He’d always send Robb to detention to prove that nothing is rigged.”

“Sounds like my late Uncle Blackfish.” Laughed Cat. “Oh dear, he always called Edmure “Slow trout.”

“So, Tully names aren’t an option. What about Rickard, for our grandfather?” Asked Rickon.

“And what if it’s a girl?” Asked Dany.

“If it’s a girl, we can name it Brandon.” Puckered Rickon, earning a push from his older brother.

Finally, aided by Garland Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns arrived. She was clad in a long, dark green dress and her usual rose embroidered hats. After the seventh our, there was finally a sharp cry. The first wolf howl in years. Robb soon came downstairs, carrying a small, rosy red bundle, half-asleep. It was wrapped in the same blanket he was when he was born, clutching his father’s finger.

“Hello.” Whispered Robb. “This is Lyarra Allerie Stark. Pleased to meet you.” Robb knew fatherhood never came easy to anyone, especially him. Holding his little girl, he was ready to give her everything she wanted. He’d learn and probably fail in some things, but, with every once of his being, he was ready to be the best father this child could have. An oath never to be broken.

“Oh, a girl!” Exclaimed Catelyn, smiling at her new granddaughter. “Isn’t she just marvellous?” Robb carefully handed her to her grandmother, but the person touched the most was the great-grandmother. Watching the frail elderly woman hold her great-granddaughter for the first time was truly a sight to behold. Sansa quietly congratulated Robb and kissed her niece’s hand and waited for Robb. They went upstairs to give Lyarra back to her mother and for Sansa to visit Margaery. She was pale and tired, slouched on the bed.

“Good job, sweetie.” Whispered Sansa, squeezing Marge’s hand. The new mother smiled back and closed her eyes, falling back to sleep. Sansa observed her new niece for a final time and kissed Robb goodbye. Walking downstairs, she confirmed that Margaery is healthy. Ned and Mace shook hands, confirming the new familiar bond. Robb came back soon, asking for silence as the new family member and her mother were asleep. Jon and Dany patted his back.

“What are you two laughing at? You’re next.”

“Don’t jinx them yet, let them enjoy married life at first!” Laughed Willas. His engagement to Allyria Dayne still hanging over his head, uncertain if confirmed or not. Willas was to step in his father’s footsteps and work for their company, with that came seriousness and a possible match. The issue was, Mace Tyrell couldn’t settle on three women for his son, so it all remained a big mystery. Garland was a member of the police force, a detective, as it was his childhood wish. The youngest, Loras, asked Catelyn if it was alright to use the phone. He rung Renly, finally reaching him.

“It’s a girl. Marge had a girl.”

“Delightful! What did they name her? Wolf-girl?”

“Goodness gracious! Lyarra Allerie.”

“Lovely. Congratulations on becoming an uncle. It’s a penniless business.”

“How many nephews and nieces do you have?”

“Four. It was five but one died tragically.”

“You monster.”

 

One week old Lyarra was resting in her mother’s arms, earning cooing and adoration from the family. Lyanna, great-aunt again, was preparing for the first fitting of the latest wedding gown she was making. The bride was a ravishing girl, so there wasn’t a need for too much embellishment and pomp, just to highlight the beauty of the wearer. She was fixing the stitches of the wedding dress, as this was only the first fitting. Dany was holding the top part of the skirt as Lyanna pinned it tighter.

“It’s very elegant and easy. It’s very you, actually.” Said Sansa, attempting to calm down her son. Jason was cranky due his wish to sleep, as he was also learning how to walk, he tripped about three times over the various fabrics and materials in the living room. He walked back to his mother and slouched over her legs, earning laughs from the room.

“The wedding is getting closer and closer. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m over the moon, honestly. I’m happy to be married to someone as kind and as loving as Jon.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Jon deserves someone like you. When he was little, I wanted to make sure he doesn’t grow up with abandonment issues like many without a parent. I was afraid he’d grow up alone and afraid, so I tried to be something like a surrogate mother to him. I hope I succeed.”

Dany took her hands, as small as her own.

“Lyanna… You did more than that. You raised a lovely young man. Thank you.”

“Now, we have a little secret but we aren’t sure how to break it to everyone. Jon and I have talked, and I suppose that it will be expected of us to live here or at Dragonstone, but we want a town house, a place of our own. And he found it, but we aren’t sure how to explain it to everyone.”

“You have my support.” Said Lyanna. “I’ll talk to Ned. But when are we getting a house tour, woman?”

“As soon as I get out of this dress and we leave the babies.”

The designated babysitter was Catelyn Stark, who gladly obliged to watch her young grandbabies. The four women drove through the city, the main street and then passed in a smaller one, parking in front of a house made out of white and grey stone, with a big red door. Dany unlocked it and led them in. The house was empty, walls bare, only some boxes and a big table there. She led them through the, for now, empty rooms to the garden, which was surrounded by the house itself. Inside were variants of many flowers and a lemon tree. It felt private and secluded and somehow familiar. When Dany was younger, her family spent summer in the Free Cities and there they had a house with a red door, which they sold around Dany’s 18th birthday because they stopped frequenting it. She recalled how sad he was when dad told her, but now, she will have some piece of it there, in her future life.

“It’s empty, but it will make a good home. Did you find it like this or did you change something?” Asked Sansa, looking around.

“We found it like this, along with the red door.”

“It’s beautiful.” Responded Margaery. “How old is it?”

“About eighty years. We want to paint it and decorate it by the end of the year. So we can move in after the wedding.”

“Your families will understand, Dany. This is for the best. It’s a healthy way to start over.” Said Lyanna. She wanted to mean every word of it, but she knew, a lonelier time was awaiting her. She toured the house with Dany, because Sansa and Margaery had to leave earlier.

“Did you tell anyone from your family?”

“Only my brother, Rhaegar. He is supportive of this decision.”

“Does he know about…?”

“My back alley bootleg alcohol dealing? No, of course not.”

“No one in your family does?”

“Of course not. It’s too risky now that my father has finally allowed me to work in the company. He got enough mockery for allowing me to go to college.” Signed Dany. “I wanted to become someone important, so I ended up in class with only men, studying political sciences. It was horrendous, but we both endured. And now, that he has finally allowed me to work there, I don’t want him to ever find out about this.”

Lyanna took her hand. “I understand you.” Before they could continue their conversation, a loud knock at the door interrupted them. Dany opened the door to reveal her oldest brother, holding a box, followed by some construction workers. Dany clasped her hands.

“Already?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Laughed Rhaegar. A rare sound nowadays. The mumbling and fast pace of the workers changed the otherwise empty house, beginning to lay white sheets of fabric on the floor, to prepare them for the upcoming renovation. Lyanna thought it was her time to leave, but Rhaegar Targaryen kept giving her a look she had not seen in a long time. Daenerys was speaking to the main painter, discussing where everything will be placed and painted. In the meanwhile, Rhaegar had many questions for the Stark.

“How are you today, Miss Stark? It has been a while. And congratulations on your great-niece.”

“Thank you, Rhaegar.”

“Are you staying here for a while or are you leaving soon.”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Not so talkative today, huh? Alright, Miss Stark. Your choice.”

“What the hell do you want, Targaryen?”

“Some change.” He whispered. “It’s been bleak lately.”

She’d lie if she said she wasn’t feeling the same. Lyanna felt like everyone was moving and growing, but she was stuck in the same place she has been for years. Ned Stark’s unwedded sister. Lyanna the spinster. Lyanna Stark, the dressmaker. Lyanna, the aunt, the sister. What was she, in the end? She was snapped out from her thoughts by Daenerys coming back, so she quickly moved away from the silver-haired man and joined Dany. They excited into the cool, autumnal afternoon and went back to Winterfell.

 

Jon was busy signing the last documents for the furniture he and Dany purchased for their new come, something for the bedroom, bathroom and drawing rooms. The dinning room and the rest weren’t picked yet, but there was time to finish up everything. After doing some other basic errands, visiting Sam and Maester Aemon, Jon encountered an old friend. He was his lecturer for one semester in college, a generally well-informed and incredible person, Mr Davos Seaworth. He was a journalist too, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Raven, the most popular newspaper in town. Davos was generally a good man to be around, as Jon recalled the brilliant lectures he held and his wicked sense of humour.

“I saw you got engaged. Congratulations, lad. To you and Miss Targaryen.”

“Thank you, Mr Seaworth. We need to catch up.”

“And when is the wedding, Stark?”

“In the summer. Expect an invitation soon.” Davos patted his back and went across the street to reach his workplace. Jon waved back to him and walked near the local farmer’s market, a place he used t frequent as a child with Aunt Lyanna. She loved fresh fruit so she made sure they ate enough of it. Jon tried to imagine a childhood without his beloved aunt. He was a teenager herself, a child in soul, when Jon, first of his father’s children, was born. He remembered when he was younger, climbing trees with Robb, only to fall of them and scab his knees. Robb raced into his mother’s arms, while Jon watched, only too feel Aunt Lyanna’s arms around him. Walking past the stands with fruit and vegetables and other produce, he finally reached the one with spices, the one where Gilly worked. He remembered there was another girl working with Gilly, so he asked her about it.

“You mean my cousin, Ygritte? She was annoying me and ruining our flat so I kicked her out. I don’t care and know where she is.”

“Gilly… She’s your family.”

“Family that has been ruining my life. I hate her.”

Another woman came up to the stand, clad in a thick, deep mauve coat and black boots. Her hair was bound in a cream scarf with a lavender pattern, half of her face hidden under sunglasses. She gave Jon a slight smile, but he wasn’t able to recognise her.

“Mr Stark.” Her smile widened, so she removed the glasses to reveal her deep indigo eyes. She kept on smiling, so Jon finally recognised her face. He hadn’t seen it in a long, long time. What fascinated Jon was, knowing that Ashara is his father’s age, how youthful she looked.

“Mrs Selmy, I haven’t seen you in a while.” They shook hands and Ashara asked for some cinnamon.

“How have you been, Mr Stark?”

“Just the usual. You?”

Ashara had so much to say to him, words stuck in her throat. “Do you have time today, Jon?”

He had a strange sensation regarding her words. “Yes, I have some time. What is it?”

She asked him to sit down on a bench. They sat in silence, quietly, for a while.

“Mrs Selmy? Is everything okay?”

“Will you please call me by my given name?” Jon nodded, still confused. “Then you can call me by mine.”

“Of course, Jon Arthur Stark.” She grazed his cheek with her hand, the realisation sinking in his mind. It can’t be. She can’t be his mother. She would have said something. Looking at the black stand of curly hair peeking through the lavender scarf, so much like his own, he felt like his entire reality was warped. He felt Ashara grabbing his hand but he took it back.

“How do you know…?”

“Because I gave it to you Jon, your father named you Jon for the Old Falcon, I picked my brother’s name. Your uncle. Jon, I’m your mother.”

He dreamt of this moment many times. Of his mother, her face her words. But it was all like a bitter wake up call.

“So why do you talk to me now, huh? After all these years?”

“Jon… Listen. The day you were born, and some time before that, I started getting inexplicably melancholic. I-I cried a lot, couldn’t sleep, then would sleep for hours… I couldn’t bare to look at anyone. I felt so, so guilty. People were telling me to be happy, I had a beautiful baby boy, but couldn’t go against this melancholic emotion. I still feel it, to this day. For months, I couldn’t get out of bed. My family was penniless at the time, so it was better for you to be raised by your father’s family. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Jon.” She tried to grab his hands again. There were days she was afraid of the sun rising, facing the world, but she knew, now or never, the truth had to be told.“I want to be in your life, if you let me. You are my only child, Jon.”

“I think your chances for motherhood have passed a long time ago. I’m an adult now.”

He got up and started to leave. “Mrs Selmy, I’ll keep this between us for your own sake. My family probably won’t be too happy knowing that you have spoken to me.” Jon put on his mask of solitude and sorrow, one he wore for years. What he felt did not matter, nor did her feelings. This was to be buried and forgotten, like a childhood spent under scoffs and eye rolls for being a bastard. He just didn’t talk about it. He wanted to bury this truth next to the memory of being looked down upon and judged.

Arriving at the empty house with the red door, Jon quietly observed the construction workers painting the walls and applying the wallpaper, while cleaning at the same time and talking to Daenerys. She explained to them where to put the packaged furniture, as she turned to Jon. She walked over and gave him a peck on the cheek, noticing his solemn face.

“Jon, is everything alright?”

“It is, why wouldn’t it be?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “Tell me.”

 

Arya was seated on the terrace on the back part of the Winterfell manor, watching Nym jump around with Grey Wind and Summer. Summer, Bran’s dog, was a small, sweet thing, too friendly sometimes. Like Bran himself. She was waiting for Jon to arrive, as he promised her a day off with her. She wanted to visit Mycah’s grave and talk to her big brother. But, Jon was late which was strange for him, so Arya continued to play with the dogs. The she spotted a figure clad in dark clothes, with a yellow scarf.

“Oh hello, Gendry.”

“Arya.” He sat down next to her, watching the dogs play.

“It’s been a while.” She said.

“Indeed it has.”

They sat in silence like that for a while. Arya looked over at his lips, she could almost feel his kiss. But, they stayed like that for a while. Unfortunately, the sun was close to setting and she really wanted to visit her late friend, so she asked Gendry, who agreed. The graveyard wasn’t too far from Winterfell. Arya and Mycah used to play between those stones, jumping and running around, then one of them would trip and they’d race to Arya’s mother for a cookie and hug. She missed those simpler days, her only worry being coming home before nightfall.

Mycah’s grave was simple, made out of a slab of grey stone, with his name, birth and death. It felt strange. Was that all that Mycah ever was? She felt Gendry offer her an arm and she leaned on him, inhaling his scent. Before tears welled up again, she asked Gendry to leave, but Gendry needed to visit his late brother’s grave. They walked over to a parcel purchased by Robert Baratheon. Wealthier families had the habit of buying parcels of the graveyard, making a small wall and gate around their graves, as a way to separate themselves from the rest. The gates of the newly-built wall and gates looked freshly coated black, with deer antler-like decorations covering them. There were only three graves, Steffon and Cassana Baratheon, and a new, fresh one, that belonged to Joffrey Tywin Baratheon. The grave was elegantly carved like deer antlers, with small lions in the corners, out a dark, almost black stone, with his birthdate and date of death on them.

“I remember when he was born. He cried for twelve minutes until he stopped. And then he took a breath and started wailing all over again. He was loud, and he was unkind and seemed resentful, yet, he was my brother. I miss him every day.”

“How are your parents coping?”

Gendry scoffed. “My mother is out of her damn mind, she is quiet most of the time and she’s spending most of her days with Myrcella and Tommen, who are confused about it and aren’t sure what to feel. And Robert, is Robert. He is working the entire day and then he comes home and eats and goes to bed, or goes out and comes back in the early hours.”

Robert and Cersei slept in separate rooms. “Did you know that Robert was in love with my aunt, Lyanna?”

“I’ve heard stories, but I know nothing of it. Why she rejected him, why they got into arguments… I wish I could slap my father. I know, there are worse then him, but he’s the closest thing to a deadbeat father that you can have without him actually being absent. I know he has a few children outside of the marriage. I know one died in infancy, one, Mya, is a little older then I am and that she lives in a village nearby. I’ve never seen her in my life.”

“My father has Jon.”

“Yes, but your father is involved in your lives. He loves you above else.”

“True. You don’t deserve a shitty father like Robert. You deserve a happy family.”

“And where can I find a happy family?”

“I can be your family.” She smiled, hands in her pockets. Gendry smiled back.

“And how is that supposed to work?”

“You tell me.”

They left the graveyard in silence, passing the Targaryen mausoleum. They had a sense of pomp, but Arya never understood why they needed a mausoleum until Gendry told her they get cremated and placed there and that there are many urns, some brought from Valyria. The Stark parcel was next, with a grey, stone wall and a similar steel gate, with a simple wolf sigil. Arya creaked the gate open, letting Gendry in. Gendry finally observed her that day. She was dressed as usual, in pants and boots, but with an oversized coat that he could swear he saw Robb or Jon in once. An old grey scarf hung from the coat, embroidered with trout and wolves. The first grave that burned his eyes belonged to a certain Arya Stark, born Arya Flint.

“That’s my father’s grandmother, I was named for her. She was somewhat of a wild lady, in his words, so I was given her name. Not that he never met her, but he loved the stories he heard. And that’s Uncle Brandon, he died young. I’ve never met him, but Dad and Mum say he was a good man. I guess they say that for every dead person. And that’s Grandpa Rickard. Robb remembers him.”  
“Do you want to leave?” Asked Gendry, hearing the heaviness in her voice.  
“Nothing more.” She replied. They walked back to Winterfell, quietly. Gendry gave her a hand and she took it, gladly.  
In front of Winterfell, Jaime parked and helped Sansa out of the car, along with Jason. He fell asleep on the way there, so Jaime picked him up, the boy getting cranky again. Jaime knew that Jason was probably his last chance at fatherhood, as his first attempt screwed up badly, ending up a blood thirsty psychopath. And Sansa, Sansa was his only chance at being a good man, at redemption for his past crimes. Sweet Sansa, who loved their child with all her heart, who gave him sweet kisses before he left for work, who supported him through every choice… And yet, the courage to tell her the truth wasn’t there. He knew he’d never be able to look her in the eyes and ask for her to forgive him for what he has done. To understand him even would be too much. Her nose was getting red from the cold, as little Jason got crankier and awake she crouched down to give him a big kiss, so Jaime joined them poking the little boy’s cheek. He will never forget the day he saw him walk for the first time. Jason stumbled many times, but Jaime was behind him, ready to catch his son. Those were words he was afraid to utter. The child or children he had with Cersei were hers only, but Jason was his son. They could spend unlimited time together and he’d be the best father he could. But then again, where does redemption stop and actual emotions start?

“Jaime?”

“Hm?” 

“Are you okay? You looked spaced out.”

“No, everything is alright, love. Come.”

He got up, offering her a hand, so she followed him. They looked down the leaf-covered road, to see Arya and Gendry walk down, hand in hand. Sansa decided to stay quiet and she and Jaime exchanged some knowing looks. It’s been a while since Sansa saw a smile as bright as that on Arya. Quickly, she pushed her family in to the garden and got into the house, both her and Jaime laughing. Catelyn come downstairs, followed by a small pack of dogs.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” They sad in uninon.


	21. Don't Talk About It

“I just don’t want to talk about it.” Said Elia, looking down in the porcelain cup of milk tea. Her eyes looked teary, but she tried to remain stoic. Oberyn exhaled, taking her hand.

“If I knew this would happen, I’d never let Doran and Mother get you to marry Rhaegar.”

“It’s not even his fault. I wish I could blame him, but I can’t. I just can’t. He tried his best, but we just don’t fit each other that way.”

“And what do you think about divorce?”

“Marriage is for life, Oberyn. I made an oath, I don’t intend to break it.”

“So what now?”

“I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Very well. Suit yourself.”

Oberyn moved the glasses to the waiter, who took them to the sink. “Do you want to eat something, Elia?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” The restaurant wasn’t really busy at this time, as most people were working. Oberyn looked around, trying to find a topic to open, something to say, but it was as if someone snuffed the words in his throat. It had always been like this. Elia married Rhaegar, who was long gone before they even stepped into the Sept, Elia gave him two children and was the best possible mother one could imagine, and he’d stay icy and distant, depriving Elia of love and attention she truly deserved. If it was up to Oberyn, she’d get a divorce. But, he knew how people looked at divorced women. As harlots and homewreckers, and he’d never allow his sister to be shunned like that.

Gentle Elia, loving Elia. Shunned out because the man who asked her to be his wife couldn’t appreciate her. Deep in the pit of his stomach, the Dornishman wondered if Rhaegar was consorting another, maybe even visiting brothels under the cover of night. As shy as he was, he’d never forget about that possibility. Men are vile creatures, too selfish for their own good, once they get something they can’t quite appreciate it. Oberyn looked over, seeing his niece arrive followed by a younger woman, with shoulder-length brown hair, dressed in a pair of pants, a men’s white shirt and a trench coat that was buttoned up due the cold weather. She turned around, an embroidery or a golden kraken showing up.

Oberyn felt himself go tense, but then he remembered that Euron used one with a red eye. This must be a Greyjoy, one that isn’t a criminal. Arianne, clad in a cherry red coat and a matching hat, looked like the polar opposite, shining brightly in the dim light of the restaurant.

“Uncle Oberyn, Aunt Elia, sorry for being late, I was… busy? Ah, I don’t honestly have an excuse.”

“Well, at least you’re admitting it.” Signed Elia. “I have to go soon.” She started gathering her purse, looking if she forgot something.

“Why so soon?” Asked Oberyn, concern lacing her voice.

“My in-laws can’t watch the children forever, can’t they? And besides, I need to go and order a dress for Dany’s wedding. I need to be the most beautiful maid of honour in history!” She waved the group off, leaving for her ordeals. Yara turned out to Oberyn.

“Lannister.”

“Which one?”

“The smaller one.”

“The left office in that hallway.” She left followed by the sound of her loud boots. Arianne took a seat across Oberyn, taking off her hat and coat.

“Since when are you two friends?”

“She’s… She’s a good person. She might have a stone cold outside but on the inside, she’s better then most.”

“If you say so. Arianne, we need to talk.”

“Not again…”

“I need your opinion on something.”

“Oh thank gods, tell.”

“Your father, my brother, wants to make a, what do you call it, high society marriage?”

“Oh, hell no. I’m not a broodmare.”

“It’s concerning your brother.”

“Trystane is fourteen, what in the world is wrong with him?”

“That’s what I said. I’m glad we’ll agree on that. Because I’m ready to scream the house down tonight.”

“Of course I agree on that! Trystane deserves to marry for love, not for my father’s gain!” Arianne nearly kicked the table. “What then? He ends up unhappy like Elia? Before you say something, we both know the truth.”

“I wish you were wrong.”

“I always get judged for that you, know? Is it because I always speak my mind?”

“It’s brave of you to do so, but you need to know your boundaries. Sometimes, it’s better not to pick at someone’s wounds.”

“Why doesn’t she just divorce him and get over with it, once for all? She deserves the world.” Said Arianne, crossing her arms in defiance.

“You know why she can’t.”

Arianne just looked down, quietly.

“Can I curse around you?”

“Sure.”

“Fuck that.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

 

In the early morning, the Stark’s rose for the introduction of little Lyarra in the faith. She was dressed in the same white dress as her father, his siblings, her grandfather and great-grandfather were for that same occasion. Marge was clad in a thick, dark emerald coat and a matching cocktail hat, with a pair of emerald earring, courtesy of her husband on this joyful occasion. The godparents to be were Catelyn Stark, Daenerys Targaryen and Sansa Lannister. Gathered in front of the water font, the elderly septon started reading the ancient prayer, introducing the child to the faith.

Margaery held the little girl as the godparents each placed a hand on her and the Septon finished with pouring a little water on her head. Lyarra started crying, waving her little hands around and Marge shushed her, kissing her little arm. At her mother’s touch, Lyarra calmed down and started suckling her thumb. Marge put back her little lace hat and have her to Robb, who proudly showed her off. They excited the Sept, people congratulating the young parents and their daughter. Marge went to greet all her guest and hugged Dany, the new godmother. Dany was clad all in cornflower blue, with a hat with blue roses adorning her silver hair.

“She is majestic, Margaery. I was honoured to be chosen as a godmother to that little angel...” Before Dany was able to finish her sentence, she noticed Jorah Mormont across the street, leaning against the car. 

He knew the rules, when Dany is on private business she is not to be disturbed. Margaery turned around to see what Dany was looking at, but then she noticed the tall man in a dust grey coat with a matching fedora. Raising her thin brows, she looked back at Dany and then at the man.

“Uncle Jorah? Where from do you know Uncle Jorah?”

“Uncle Jorah? His name is Jorah Mormont and he works for me.”  
“Right, I know him as the man who married my mother’s youngest sister, Lynesse, then she divorced him and I never heard again from him.”

“What? When was that?”  
“I was maybe 17 when that all happened? I can’t really remember. It doesn’t really matter. They married for love, but he wasn’t really… As well off as the Hightower’s and my grandfather was appalled and disowned Lynesse. She had always been the wild one in the bunch, always complaining and making trouble… But she was the most beautiful. She had these gorgeous features and stunning, light blonde hair… She was everything.” 

Margaery looked Dany up and down. “You look like her, a little. Her eyes were only blue, but that’s it. You could pass off as sisters.” A crying sound, coming from little Lyarra, was heard in the background and Marge patted Dany before she went to cater to her daughter.

Dany looked over, once again, realisation hitting her. Jorah Mormont had always been accused by people like Missandei, Brienne, The Hound even, for being in love with her. She always brushed it off, as gossip or jokes, only now to find it all true. Knees shaking, she pulled Jon by the sleeve and they slowly walked to the car, Dany trying to hold herself from screaming his face off. Entering the car, Jorah begun to drive, explaining the emergency.

“Was it that urgent, that it couldn’t have waited until tonight?”

“It’s a grand debt, Miss Targaryen.”

“No matter how grand it was, I was with my family. They come first.”

“But...”

“No buts or ifs or anything else.”

“Very well, Ma’am. Do you still want us to proceeded?”

“No, not yet. If nothing comes up until the end of the week, release the Hound.”

“Very well. Do you want to go to the port?”

“No, do be a darling and drop us off at the main street.”

Jorah nodded and left them. Lynesse Hightower will for now, remain something she can and will hold against him.

“Where are we going, Dany?” Asked Jon, clearly confused.

“Home.” She said.

They walked down the old steps that led to their future house and she unlocked the red door, pushing it, although she nearly fell considering how heavy it was.

“Why here?” The house was half furnished, no curtains, carpets or pictures in it. Yet. Dany took his hand and led him upstairs, to the hallway that led to their future bedroom. It was dark, because the lights weren’t installed yet, the hallway felt like it was cut off from the rest of the world. Dany looked at him, eyes stern and concerned. He just knew, he had to get this off his chest, it was eating him alive, the knowledge his own mother abandoned him, that it would ruin the relationship he cherished the most… Dany’s sweet voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Jon, you need to tell me what is wrong with you. You’ve been absent lately, a shadow of a human. Tell me love, what is wrong?”

She took his hands, nearly shaking from the wind.

“Dany… It’s all to much. I can’t tell anyone.”

“What?”

“I’ve met her.”

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Daenerys gasped, shocked at the revelation. How could this be?

“And… who is she? What’s her name.”

“Ashara Selmy, or Ashara Dayne, as she was at the time I was born.”  
Daenerys hugged him.

“I’m so sorry, had I known, I would have said something. And she’s been under our noses this entire time… What did she say to you?”

“That she wants to be involved in my life… It’s too late for that. I already grew up without a mother.” 

Daenerys nearly smacked him.

“And what of Lyanna?”  
Jon stopped.

“I feel like shit now.”

“Jon, once we start living here, as man and wife, we are leaving the past behind us. Your mother, whoever she is, is a part of you and always will be. But, you need to resolve this with her and Ned before it comes back in the future to bite you in the arse. For you sake, talk to her. Ask her why, ask her what happened? Wasn’t Ned free to marry anyone he wanted in his youth?”

“Yes, only Uncle Brandon was engaged against his will, as eldest son.”  
The realisation dawned on Dany.

“But he isn’t the eldest son now, isn’t he? Ned is. What if the woman in question was Catelyn Tully?”

“That could actually make sense. But if Ashara was pregnant at the time of the wedding, as I know that Robb was born 10 months after they married, and I’m four months older then him, that means that Ashara was pregnant at the time of the wedding. Do you think my father knew?”

“We’ll find out when we have them here. I’ll invite them both to talk. This needs to stop. Their decisions ruined your life. You spent a childhood in self-doubt, no one deserved that.”  
Jon hugged her.

“I can’t change the past.”

“I know.” She said, holding him tightly. “But you can influence the future. I love you, Jon. I hope we can work this out.”

“Thank you, Dany.”

“When I said yes to you, I said yes to your tears and smiles, your past and your future… I’m here for you. From now on till the end of my days.”

“I love you.” He held her tight, inhaling her scent.

“God, we’re cheesy sometimes. But fuck it, we need to get Ashara and Ned in the same room and make them talk. This ain’t it.”

“And what of Lyanna?”

“You think she knows?”

“Absolutely. Dad never hid anything from her.”

“Then we have to ask Aunt Lyanna. But after the wedding?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want to disturb her… She’s been through enough. Although, I wish we could somehow include her in the wedding.”

“Who is your best man?”

“Robb, of course.”

“Elia volunteered as my maid, but we can ask her to make room for Lyanna. I think she won’t mind it.”

She did eventually, but Elia never told Dany. She just didn’t talk about it.

 

“Just make sure they see the body, that’s all. Now fuck off.” Said Euron, closing his office. He was tired of his idiot employees and their inability to find one bloody dealer. One, only one. He had four teams scavenging for the Dragon, but he was like a ghost, holding the entire empire Euron has built was in the Dragon’s hands, crumbling every single day. Annoyed, he shot at the door. Bolton was doing other good work, finding him victims, murdering everyone, flaying and torturing people…

Bolton was a good dog, a slow one, but a good one.

Euron had been living in the shadows for years, a quiet man, concerned only with his crimes. And then he orders one thing to his dimwit brother and nephew fuck up one thing, then the Dragon steals his customers…

If he could just murder them all. That would be cathartic.

“Boss, we have bad news. Poole ain’t paying shit, he’s three months late.”

“Three months? Does he have kids?”

“A girl, a young one. She’s eighteen tops.”

“Kidnap her. Any news from Baratheon?”

“No, he still hasn’t pulled down the warrant.”

“That dickweed isn’t aware that I have what ever the fuck is left of his dignity in my hands? Very well. Let’s send him another one, shall we? If he doesn’t react, get his kid and send her back to him piece by piece.”

“Very well, sir. Anything else.”

“Call Littlefinger, I need to relax a little.”

“Of course, sir.”

He went to the brothel that evening, laying in a room and waiting for the whore to arrive. This was a new one. She was clad in all grey, with fiery red hair. She was a weird, skinny thing, but Euron liked it. She looked as tough as nails. Or so she thought.  
“And what’s your name, girl?”

“Ygritte.” She said, untying her dress, letting it slip off her shoulders. She walked over to the bed, watching Euron.

“Should I undress ya?” She asked, looking him up and down in disgust.

“Yes, that’s for what you’re getting paid for.”

She nodded and started undoing his clothes, slowly, but she was too slow. So he found the pistol hidden in his coat and shot her point blank, the girl tumbling on the floor, leaving a trail of blood on the wall. Euron got up and fumbled his clothes up and called the owner, but he was already in front of the door with another woman.

“Mr Greyjoy! I’m so sorry, what happened?”

“That one was annoying me. I want another one.”

“Of course sir, in the next room. Please.”

Euron left, Ros staring at the bloody pile in shock. Littlefinger bent and measured her pulse. There wasn’t any.

“How am I going to clean this…We’ll have to repaint the entire fucking room.” He looked at the corpse. “Does she have a family?”

“A cousin.” Said Ros. “Somewhere by the port, near the farmer’s.”

“Take her there, to handle her. This is just disgusting. Fucking Greyjoy.”

Back in the police station, Stannis received another photograph. By noon, the warrant was repealed. Finally, some good news for Euron Greyjoy.


	22. Home

And then came the morning. Rhaella stepped into her daughter’s bedroom to wake her up. It was dawning on the city, as the wedding of the century came. Rhaella shook Dany’s small body between the blankets and she jumped out of it like a solider. Rhaella laughed, shaking her head.

“A little excited, aren’t we?”

Dany rolled her eyes, changing out of her nightgown into a white robe. Soon, it was time for her preparations. First, her hair was braided into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. A soft and light coat of make up, with a pair of simple drop pearl earrings that belonged to her late grandmother.

Then came the dress. It was made out of white, matte satin. It had an open boat neckline, cap sleeves and princess seams, making it fit her exceptionally well, as it followed her waist line and hips and had a small train behind her. The prettiest parts were the buttons on the back and a cummerbund-style sash to accentuate her slender waist.

Her hair was adorned with a wreath of white roses and baby’s breath, along with a 7-foot-long wedding veil made out of pure lace, flower-patterned. Rhaella, clad in a light pink suit with a large, brimmed hat with roses, wiped a tear.

“You look like a dream, Dany.”

“Thank you.”

“Now let’s get going, darling. It’s rude to be late to your wedding.”

Dany got up and left with her father, on the way to the Sept. Aerys was mostly quiet, only telling her that she looks beautiful, but she saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Dad?”

“I’m sorry, you’re getting married… My Dany. My youngest.”

She smiled, squeezing his hand.

At Winterfell, Lyanna was running up and down the stairs, making sure everyone is ready. Jon and Robb were in Jon’s old bedroom, attempting to tie the ties. And how are they managing? Well, not the best, but one must give them points for trying. Both in morning dress, only ties to be added. Marge, dressed in a bespoke bright yellow dress and matching saucepan cocktail hat creaked the door open, only to see the men in dark grey struggling to finish their outfits.

“I’d pretend I’m surprised but I’m not. Also, didn’t we agree that Robb is wearing the dark blue one and Jon the burgundy one?”

“We’ve been bamboozled.” Said Robb, shaking his head. Margaery laughed and came to fix up both of their ties, and pinned white roses on them.

“There we go, boys. Not let’s see the Maid of Honour and what she’s wearing.”

Lyanna was clad in pastel blue, with a halo-like head piece on her head that was embellished with blue roses made out of the same fabric her dress was. She cleaned up the pleated skirt and struck a pose, earning claps from the room. She was followed by Arya, dressed in a pastel pink dress with a wreath of baby’s breath on her head.

“I look like a cupcake.”

“At least you are capable of dressing yourself.”

Next up was Ned Stark, carrying a small back box. He opened the little thing, revealing a cravat pin made out of silver with a wolf head on it. It was marvellous, made with a lot of skill and craft. Ned pinned it on Jon, fixing his jacket.

“Worn by all the Stark men on their wedding days. You should too. Are you nervous?”

“I woke up at five this morning. My hands are shaking I might mess up some vows or something or humiliate myself.”

“You can’t fuck up. Trust me.”

Catelyn, clad in navy blue, leading Rickon and Bran, shouted at Robb. “Language!”

“Sorry, Mum.”

“Now let’s go. Or we’ll be late.”  


The yard in front of the Sept was washed in golden sunlight. The Lannister’s and Baratheon’s were arriving. Sansa was wearing a pulverous lilac shift dress and pillbox hat with a bow in the back. Her husband and nephew were clad in similar morning dress, with Robert Baratheon almost bursting out of it. Cersei was wearing cherry red, with a net hiding half of her face.

The Martell’s arrived, led by Doran and Mellario. She was dressed in bright teal, while her daughter, Arianne, was clad in a form fitting mikado yellow gown along with a large brimmed hat, Elia clad in a soft, loose fitting olive dress and hat. Rhaegar was walking Rhaenys and Aegon, both very excited to be there, as Rhaenys was a bridesmaid. She was dressed in a smaller version of Arya’s pink dress and a wreath of baby’s breath and was excited to run around and make everyone coo and awe at her. Tywin Lannister, along with his son Tyrion, was chatting up the mother and other brother of the bride. 

As the Stark’s started pulling in, the three hundred guests swarmed the chapel. Lysa Arryn and Littlefinger came too, the woman clad in a horrid feather-like had and matching electric green dress. One deep violet clad figure, with a short cape and cocktail hat, was quietly watching the families greet themselves. Her only child was marrying today, she might as well look her best. Brienne Van Tarth, clad in a powder blue pant suit and wide-brimmed, blue straw hat with a white ribbon, accompanied by Missandei, clad in a bright hue of coquelicot with a matching poppy fascinator. The Hound was invited too, but declined to appear. Stunned by the appearance of the tall woman in the powder blue suit, Cersei walked over to see who she is. To her utter shock and surprise, Jaime was already there.

“Brienne! It’s been ages. I haven’t seen you since… Well I can’t remember.”

She laughed back at him, remembering the year she spent with him in Essos. He spent a gap year there, and Brienne was working for the Targaryen company. They caught up quickly, with Cersei scanning her appearance. There was no ring on her finger.

“And who are you?” She asked, looking her up and down. “I don’t believe we have met.”

“I’m Brienne Van Tarth, and you are...”

“Brienne, this is my twin sister, Cersei Baratheon.” Said Jaime through his teeth.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Baratheon.”

“And where do you know my brother from, Miss Van Tarth?”

“I’ve met him in Essos, he was spending a gap year there, I believe.” That had been the year when Robert and Cersei married. “He was like a brother to me that year.” Finished Brienne. Cersei’s fake sugar coated smile fell down and the Septon was already at the door, calling people in.

The choir begun to sing, signalising it’s time to get up. Jon and Robb walked down the isle, standing in front of the altar and waiting for the bride. Jon felt his hands shake, face changing from red and white and blue and purple. What if he messes up? What if the disappoints Dany? Or is he even worthy of Daenerys Targaryen?

And then, the door creaked open.

Dany was a vision in white, lace covering her face, the two bridesmaids carrying the long bridal veil, led by her father who was all smiles. In her small hands was a bouquet of white flowers, hand picked by Jon. As Dany came closer and closer, Jon felt all of his worries carried away by a hand. The Septon smiled, opening his arms.

Dany and Aerys finally arrived, Aerys placing his daughter’s hand into Jon’s. He leaned over to Jon and whispered.

“Hurt her and it will be your last.”

He backed off, pulled Dany’s veil back, all smiles and walked back to his family, leaving Lyanna Stark by the altar to take her place as Maid of Honour. Jon gulped and Dany looked over him, smiling. Jon noticed the sweet tears in her eyes so he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“How are you?” He whispered during the prayer.

“I’m happy, you?”

“I think I’m going to jump out of my skin.”

The Septon bind their hands together. Pulling out the Book of the Mother, he opened it and started reciting the ritual.

“Repeat after me.”

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

Robb handed him the rings, putting them on the Septon’s book so he can bless them. Jon and Dany looked in each other’s eyes. Every pain, every heartbreak, every hurt, every lonely moment, every sickness, just everything, was forgotten. To Jon, only Daenerys existed now. They didn’t need a paper to confirm their love, but shouting it to the entire world wasn’t really an option, but declaring his love for her to the entire world had to be. His Dany, his Daenerys, his lovely lady that made his heart flutter over this faint time he has known her. She was everything he wanted and oh, so much more.

Dany was holding back her tears. Now, nothing in the world can separate them, every fear she had was now forgotten, there was only the undying love she left. Dany was her mother’s child, she’d love him until her breathing stopped, until the end of her days. She understood now why people cried and wailed for love, why the spilled blood for it, and why poets spend lifetimes to put it into words.

The Septon now untied the white band and gave them rings to exchange.

“And now, you may kiss the bride.”

The kiss that sealed it all. Now and forever, this was not their first, not their last, but it is one of many. Then, they took seats in the corner of the sept, for the prayer, along with their audience. Rhaegar Targaryen was due to do the reading from the Book of the Mother, it was a chapter about love and faith.

“Let love be genuine. Let love bind us all. For it is as rare as truth, as happiness itself. We are strange creatures, for we live such short lives and spend them pondering over our pain and lost wars, when we can give so much love and joy.

Let love be genuine. Let us all give it before taking it. Enjoy the smallest of gifts, but give too before you take. We are strange creatures, for we have been given such big hearts and no understanding of how to use them...”

Rhaegar’s soft baritone filled the Sept. At Sansa and Jaime’s wedding, Tyrion did this reading, and at Margaery and Robb’s wedding, this was performed by Garland Tyrell. But then again, there was something about the way the Targaryen red it. Or at least that’s what Lyanna thought. The beauty of the words brought tears to her eyes, so she wiped one quietly. Rhaegar noticed her tears, but continued reading.

After the reading, it was time to write into the registry. Ned Stark, Aerys Targaryen, the best man, maid of honour and newly weds were present behind the altar.

“Mr Jon Arthur Stark and Miss Daenerys Visenya Aelinor Targaryen… Gods, that’s a mouthful… Witnesses?” The Septon asked.

“Robb Hoster Stark and Lyanna Serena Stark, along with Eddard Cregan Stark and Aerys...” Said Jon.

“Daeron Targaryen.” Finished Dany.

The septon nodded, writing the names down.

“And now, I’m writing you in as Daenerys Stark...”

“Targaryen-Stark.” Corrected Dany. “I choose to keep my maiden name.”

“Very well, Mrs Targaryen-Stark.” Mumbled the septon, tying up the papers and placing them on the shelf. “Congratulations.”

The pair excited the chapel, covered by a rain of petals and rice from their guests. They ran through it, laughing out loud.

“Even Jon is married!” Shouted Robb, remembering Jon’s childhood shyness. Marge threw additional petals on them.

“You look gorgeous!” She laughed, clapping. Jaime patted Jon’s back and kissed Dany’s hand to congratulate him. Sansa confessed to him later that Jon spent his early years saying he’ll never marry because he’s a bastard.

The reception took them to Dragonstone, to the gorgeous gardens were round, white tables were placed with matching chairs. In the middle was place left for a makeshift dance floor, all decorated with strings of flowers and white and rosy ribbons. A small orchestra was playing soft music, inviting people to dance.

The married couple arrived last, Dany ready to throw her bouquet at the unmarried women. Somehow, it landed in Lyanna’s lap, who was sitting on the other end. Laughing, she accepted it and kept it with herself, it was a lovely memento of a lovely day. It was time for the first dance soon and Jon led Dany to the middle of the garden. The soft music played, Jon wrapped an arm around Dany.

“We’re actually married.” Smiled Jon. “I’m happy we managed not to cry on our wedding day.”

One look from her glassy lilac eyes and Jon knew he’d never deny her anything.

“We’re idiots in love. What could possibly go wrong?”

Jon kissed her softly and heard the guests behind clap. It was time for the reception to go wild. Arya, rolling her eyes, took a seat finally, the white leather of her shoes squeezing her tired feet. She looked over and saw Gendry carrying a small daisy, probably picked from the garlands of flowers decorating the gardens of Dragonstone.

“For Miss Arya Lyanna Stark.” He said, getting on one knee.

“Thank you, Mr Baratheon.”

He took a seat next to her and watched her play with the little daisy, touching the gentle petals with her fingertips.

“Do you want to dance?”

“I’d love to, but my shoes are killing me.”

“Take them off, then.”

“That’s an idea. But you have to take off yours, too.”

“I think we have a deal.”

With two pairs of shoes on a chair, white and black, Gendry and Arya raced to the dance floor, swaying to the music.

“What in the world are those wretched fools doing?” Asked Cersei.

“Having fun, Cersei.” Said Robert, returning to his conversation with Ned. Back on the podium, Gendry was spinning Arya around, causing smiles and laughter from her. She pointed at the willow tree in the end of the garden, where a bench was placed.

“Now I really need a break.” She said, leading Gendry to it.

“Oh wow, you’re a good dancer.” He said, as they plopped down on the small bench. “You always say you hate girly things, but you dance better than anyone...” Arya grabbed his shirt, pulling him down, and kissed him. Just kissed him, right there. He moved his face back for a while, but then returned to kissing her.

Ashara remained in the shadows, completely neutral, watching Jon on his big day. There was a brief, fleeting moment when their eyes locked as the young couple was cutting the cake. Jon looked so happy, and to her, that was enough. Daenerys and on were a wonderful couple, they matched each other perfectly. It was a love match, after all. Like hers once was.

Rhaegar pondered if Elia wanted to dance, but the children got cranky so she bid them all good night and went to take them to sleep. Rhaegar watched the party, noticing the slender figure of Lyanna Stark clap for an impromptu dance between her brother and his wife. Rhaegar was about to walk to her, when he noticed Robert Baratheon walk to her, but she made a swift turn on her heel and walked back between the orchestra and a table. Now, gathering his courage, Rhaegar walked to her.

“Would you like to dance, Miss Stark?”

“I dance like a kangoroo, but, what the hell.“

She looked him up and down and nodded, taking his hand. His hand on her waist, the soft sway of the music carrying them… One might even consider falling in love.

“I saw you crying today. At the reading.”

“It was gorgeous. Of course it brought tears to my eyes. You did an amazing job.”

“I’m glad you appreciate my reading skills.”

“Take the compliment, Rhaegar. I rarely give those.”

“And do you receive them, Miss Stark?”

“That rarely, too.”

“You should receive more. You’re beautiful. Smart. A wizard with clothes...”

She blushed a little, his hand grazing her waist. She decided for once to enjoy her evening and let herself be lulled by Rhaegar’s silver tongue.

The evening was coming to a close, Dany was half-asleep on Jon’s shoulder. It was time for them to go home. Dany took off her wedding veil, which belonged to her mother once and returned it to her, but Rhaella gave it to Dany, as it was passed from mother to daughter, it belonged to Aelinor, Rhaella’s late mother. The flowers were nearly falling out of place, so Jon removed them. Entering the car, he started the engine and drove them home, waving at the guests who were blowing them kisses and smiles.

The house was empty and quiet, now all decorated and ready to be lived in. Dany’s mother stacked them with a bowl of their wedding cake, a lovely fruity thing. As they arrived, Dany placed the cake on the table, taking her shoes off and placing them on the piano chair. She plopped down on the couch, sinking her head into a pillow.

“No one tells you that weddings are exhausting.”

“I feel like shit.” Said Jon, sitting next to her, placing his head on her stomach. He started at the veil, unceremoniously draped on the coffee table.

“I loved your veil.” He confessed, looking at the old thing.

“Thank you. It’s some Myrish lace Granny Aelinor bought when she was young for a dress, but she never took it to a seamstress, so she used it later as a wedding veil. It’s about 60 years old but the colour looks amazing. Mum wore it when she got married and now… She passed it to me.”

“For our future daughter?”

“We’ll see about that, Jon.”

“If you want it, you shall have it.” He said, eyeing her body. She played with his hair, shaking her head.

“You are impossible.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” She said, grazing his hair. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too. It’s nice to be home.”

She got up and asked Jon to undo her wedding dress, so she was left in her undergarments. Finally comfortable, she joined him back on the couch.

“It’s ridiculous to think we have an actual bed upstairs.”

“Well, I’m not getting up!” Answered Dany. Jon picked her up like a bride and carried her upstairs, laughing.

“Thank gods you’re light!”

They fell on the bed, arms intertwined. It was a long road, but it wasn’t over yet. They were just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually write notes, but this was a special chapter for me, as Jon and Dany finally married. As you see, I take the fashion game seriously, as I am myself a fashion whore. Thank you for reading, I'll post a chapter or two and then ot might get tricky because uni starts, but stick around, I'll do my best  
> P.S. Arya and Gendry <3


	23. Broken Oaths

Aerys Targaryen nearly threw the office chair down the hallway. Barristan Selmy, a chancellor to the city, Miss Wylla Manderly, the secretary, Detective Garland Tyrell and Arthur Dayne, head of the city council, were all lined up, praying that the Targaryen doesn’t turn the office into a graveyard. 

“Why am I now finding out about this?” Shouted the Targaryen. “You should have notified me immediately the moment he pulled it! Where is Baratheon? Where?”

“The Commissioner is spending time with his family, Sir.” Said Garland quietly.

“After pulling the arrest warrant on Euron Greyjoy? Damn well he should be, the bastard doesn’t have much time with them left! For fuck’s sake!”

“Sir, if we all calm down…” 

“There is no calming down, Barristan! He’s been fucking up for a while now! He needs to be replaced!”

“According to the law, the commissioner can only be replaced if he committed a crime, Sir.” Said Garland, hands in his pockets. “Stannis might be shit at his job, but he is as clean as a newborn. That man never set a foot wrong in his life.”

“Victarion Greyjoy appointed Baratheon, didn’t he?”

“He did, but it was either him or the retiring Jeor Mormont.” Said Miss Manderly.

“Mormont would have done it properly, at least. Seven hells. Is there a way to make him leave?”

“He cannot be bought, he cannot be convinced or scared. He’s like a rock.”  


“Mr Dayne. You served in the army. Would you consider joining the police force as a detective.”

Arthur shrugged. “If it has to be done, it shall be done. All I want to is to serve and protect, Sir.”

“Very well. Detective Tyrell, you know what to do. Tell Stannis we’re sending him backup in the form of Mr Dayne. For the other Greyjoy.”

“Very well, Sir. Mr Dayne, when can you start?”

“Now.” They left the room while Garland kept explaining to him the ground rules.

“Sir, are you aware what you’re doing?” Asked Selmy, half concerned.

“I am. Dayne shall succeed Stannis. The man is unfit to lead.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sir. They won’t trust Dayne, a newbie, when they have their trusted Commissioner Baratheon.”

“The we’ll make them love Dayne, then. I’ve been playing dangerous games my entire life.”

“When you open your mouth, I sometimes hear Tywin speak.”

“And what do you have to say about my former best friend?”

“Nothing, Sir. I just think you sound like he does sometimes.”

“Just… Leave me alone. I have some paperwork to finish.”

“Very well. You have an appointment with Mr Eddard Stark this afternoon.”  


“Thank you for the reminded, Miss Manderly.”

 

“She is absolutely precious.” Cooed Catelyn over her small granddaughter. Baby Lyarra waved her small hands around, almost clapping. Catelyn poked her button nose and the baby laughed loudly again. Catelyn gave her a plush wolf and she took it gladly. Margaery smiled at the sight.

“I’m glad she’s bonding with everyone. This is all very new and very fresh to me.”

“How did you take the birth and afterbirth?”

“Well, the birth was difficult as every other is, it was rather painful, and the afterbirth… I guess it went smoothly.”

“That’s good to hear. Some women get… somewhat melancholic in the afterbirth. I’ve heard it happen once or twice.”

“Melancholic?” Asked the brunette.

“They have a hard time bonding with the child. And loving it is an issue to them. It is quite sad, but it happens.”

“That sounds horrible! Do you know anyone who suffered from that?”

“No, but I’ve heard tales. Oh, she’s cranky.”

“She must be hungry.” Margaery lowered her shirt and led the little baby to her breast. As soon as she started suckling, her crying stopped.

“Some of those sad women even abandon their children, or so I’ve heard.”

“I could never imagine leaving Lyarra. She’s my heart.”

“How is Robb holding up?”

“Robb… He is well enough, I guess. Working with Jon and Mr Stark.”

Marge was still confused with her feelings regarding her husband. He was a knockout in bed, he’d make her laugh, was a wonderful father, but did she love him like in the storybooks? Probably not. Robb was a young, lost man, just as she is young and wandering. Well, at least that was she’d like to believe, but the two rings on her finger convinced her otherwise.

Her days were filled now with taking care of Lyarra, attending tea parties and sometimes walking with Sansa and Jason. But that was it. She might have had some dreams, but they were now clouds in her coffee. Her vanity might have eaten her out, but Robb…

Robb was kind. He wasn’t perfect, he was far from it, but he was trying to be a good husband and father. He adored Lyarra with his entire heart. Lyarra was a bonding point between them, but the truth was, there were both unprepared to become parents.

“Robb is Robb. Has cleaned up a bit, but he is happy. He loves being a dad.”

“I imagine… He isn’t really a natural father, but when I saw him with that little girl, I knew he’d be good. Now, let’s get dressed and visit my sister-in-law. I need a dress for a cocktail party.”

“Oh, okay. This one is done eating. Let me grab gloves, a hat and a purse and we can go.”

An hour later, they were on their way to the Blue Rose.

Lyanna was writing up some future orders, when she heard the door creak and the bell ring. Today, she was dressed in dove grey and a red belt for a pop of colour. For some reason, she started loving red recently. Without rising her head, she wrote down an order for a lime green sparkly party dress.

“Welcome to The Blue Rose, how can I help you?”

“Well, I don’t exactly wear dresses, but I’ve heard the seamstress is a nice lady.” 

Lyanna rose her head, seeing the stupid wild smile of Rhaegar Targaryen, carrying a bundle of bright blue roses. He was so gorgeous that it actually hurts.

“For you, Miss Stark. I feel like your atelier is wonderful, but it tends to lack floral decorations.”

Speechless, Lyanna took the flowers and placed them in the otherwise empty porcelain vase that was a gift from Catelyn. She went to the bathroom and came back with a pitcher of water to pour water for the flowers.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, of course. I love them in fact, they’re beautiful.”

“I’m happy you do. What are you doing today?”

“Just wrapping up some orders, I worked on a wedding dress for some girl, she wants one just like Dany wore, but I’ not sure if it will suit her… Ah, possibilities.”

“So, a long day, huh?”

“Somewhat.”

“I suppose you could use a break?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to go on a break with me?”

She looked him up and down.

“Yes.”

 

She pulled out her purse from the pile behind the counter and went to lock the door. They left through the back door, going through the main street. Lyanna rarely felt shy or confused, but now she was experiencing a wide range of everything. She looked at him once or twice, almost blushing. What the hell is she thinking? He’s a married man, younger than her.

“Are you hungry, maybe? Do you want to grab some coffee or ice cream?”  
Was this a date.

“Ice cream would be nice.”

He offered her an arm and she hesitated for a while. And then she took it.

Luckily for them, they passed Sansa walking Lady but she didn’t notice them. Sansa took some time off after the wedding, as it had only been two days. Jason was a lively and active child, very hard to convince to take a nap or break. He was learning how to speak too, so his sweet babbling might sometimes get to her head. So today, his grandfather was spending time with him.

Unfortunately for her, she encountered someone she prayed never to meet again. His face turned into a wide grin, opening his arms as if to hug her.

“Ah, my dear Sansa! It’s been a 

“Hello, Mr Baelish.”

“Please, call me Petyr. Come dear, do take a seat.”

She hesitated but took a seat next to him in the almost empty cafe. The old cafe once was a hotspot for young people, but it got pushed out by a local diner and now it was mostly frequented by older people and pensioners. Baelish said he was waiting for someone. She tried to hide her face under the wide-brimmed pulverous hat but Baelish kept attempting to lock eyes with her. Sansa shifted in her seat quietly. Soon, the guest came.

Sansa never saw anyone like him. He had a broad face, large blue eyes and a strange smile. His bowl-cut brown hair could have made him appear boyish, but he had an air of inhumane about him, as if he was hiding a corpse in his bag. Baelish ordered some tea and lemon cakes for Sansa and coffee for him and the man.

“Ramsay, it’s been a while. This is Sansa.”

He offered his hand and Sansa shook it, gulping. There was a something lurking in his eyes, something… Not quite easy to explain.

“Oh, is this lovely lady a friend of yours?” Asked Ramsay, observing Sansa. Baelish wrapped an arm around Sansa.

“She is. Sansa is a true darling.” Sansa mover her left hand to move Littlefinger’s hand, but he somehow managed to grab it. Ramsay spotted the oval sapphire engagement ring and gold wedding band.

“Married women, you old dirty dog?”

Baelish laughed and Sansa shook his hand off. Yet somehow, he managed to grab it all over again and plant a kiss on it. Disgusted, Sansa pulled away.

“I’m his niece, in fact.”

“By marriage. Daughter to Lysa’s sister Catelyn.”

“Wait… This is a Stark! No, a Lannister now!”

“And I have to go. Come, Lady.” The dog barked and obliged happily, leaving the two men alone. She walked up to The Blue Rose, where she saw Margaery and her mother stand in front of the door, where a sign “I’ll be right back” was plastered in. How strange. Aunt Lyanna never left the shop like this.

“Marge? Mum? What happened?”

“I have no idea. We just came here and it was closed.”

“Lyanna never closes the shop like this.” Said Catelyn. “She might have had an emergency somewhere.”

“What kind of emergency? Gods, I hope she’s okay?” Said Sansa, hands still trembling.

“We’ll find out soon enough. Come girls, we can go for a walk.”

 

Night fell and Lyanna still hadn’t left Rhaegar’s presence. He was enchanting, almost magical. And Rhaegar… Perhaps she longed for someone’s attention. Rhaegar’s attention was a cure to her sore soul… But the truth was, he was married. And that’s why they could never last. She looked over him again, and for the umpteenth time today, he noticed.

“What are you looking for, Lyanna?”

Stunned she turned around. “Nothing, it’s just getting dark and everything. It’s time for me to go home.”

“I’ll drive you.”

After a quiet ride to Winterfell, Lyanna invited him in. She didn’t know why. Maybe because it started to rain, maybe because the house was empty since her nephew moved out, maybe because Arya was busy with that new boyfriend of hers… Lyanna didn’t want to be alone tonight and the sad silver-haired man just looked like the right company to keep. 

She made them tea and told him about the nocturnal shenanigans of her nephews and nieces and their friends. She told him about the time she saw Jon and Dany together, or the times they came back from a bar, or the party they threw there once…

“It seems like it was ten years ago!”

“I wish I was there.”

She wanted to say that she thought the same, but decided to stay silent. The rain got stronger, as if the skies were mourning someone.

“How are you going to drive back home?” She asked, looking through the window. A thunderous sound pierced the silent room and Lyanna told him to stay over night or until the rain calms. But they got stronger and stronger only. She led him to a room, pulled out some pillows and sheets and laid them on the bed.

She turned to Rhaegar.

“There, you can sleep here. Do you need to call anyone?” She meant Elia.

“No, not really.” She was with her family.

“Okay...I’ll go now.” She said. But, before she was able to leave, as if there was a magnetic pull to him, as if an invisible force pushed them, their lips collided. They felt on the bed and… There was only pain after.

 

In the evening, Petyr Baelish arrived home. Robyn was already asleep, and his mother was nowhere to be seen. Confused, Littlefinger climbed the stairs and saw Lysa sit quietly in her chair, the windows were open, letting the cool breeze in. She got up, face pale and stern.

“Where were you today?”

“I was working. Why?”

“Don’t lie to me! I saw you in that cafe, smooching Sansa’s hand!”

“Lysa… It’s all a misunderstanding.”

“A MISUNDERSTANDING? Tell me you weren’t thinking about her!”

“Who?”

“Cat! The beautiful Cat that you cried yourself to sleep to when she got engaged to Brandon!”

“Lysa… What are you talking about?” He said, carefully taking her arms. 

“I’ll call her! I’ll tell you what I saw! I’ll tell you how now you want her daughter now she’s old and ageing!”

“Lysa, my darling? What are you talking about?”

She begun crying.

“She always got the nicer things. A husband her age, a large family, children that adore her! The prestige and wealth of the Stark family… everything! And I got a wailing child and an old man and an always empty house!”

“Lysa, my darling. Calm down, here breathe. Just breathe.” He led her to the window.

“I just can’t believe you would do this to me! With my own niece! I wanted to kill the bitch!”

“Lysa, are you hearing yourself?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Calm down. The only woman I have ever loved is...” Her eyes almost lit up. “Your sister. That’s why I cut the brakes on Brandon’s car.”

And he pushed her through the window. It was a long fall and she plopped down, blood spraying from her now broken hand. Littlefinger cleaned his hands with a towel and went out for a little walk through the back door and returned an hour later to fake a suicide letter and pasted it on Lysa’s vanity. Not that she’d be needing it now.

Afterwards, he called the police and got ready to play the role of the sad husband. Today was a long day, he deserved a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be my last chapter for a while, as uni begins in two days. I really need my time to settle in, but after I promise to post and wrap up this story so I can start working on part 2.  
> Thank you for reading, I'll be back soon <3


	24. Femme Fatale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm going to try to update once a week, but I won't promise anything! Do enjoy this one, the next one will be a bit different :)

The Arryn estate was once again covered in high ranking police officers and detectives, with the commissioner himself roaming the officers attempting to work. The son of the deceased was trembling under a blanket, in his stepfather’s care. Lysa Arryn’s body was covered with a white sheet, blood spatters still covering the coble-stoned yard. The suicide note was carefully bagged with the other evidence, reading that she had been depressed because of a recent miscarriage, which was completely false.

The sister and brother of deceased arrived soon, with their respective spouses. Ned and Cat Stark were first, Cat’s face marred with tears. Ned was holding her as the policeman broke the news. He explained there was a note and they are free to read it as soon they make a copy.

“What did it say?” Asked Ned, wrapping Catelyn in his jacket.

“Mrs Arryn was depressed due a recent miscarriage. Apparently, she had one two days ago.”

“What?” Said Cat, still shaking. “She didn’t mention anything...”  
“It’s too soon to ask ourselves why. At least she left a note. Many don’t.” Responded the officer. He turned back around, where the CSI was marking the scene with a yellow band.

“Dickhead, this isn’t a murder! Remove it.” Said Garland Tyrell, half annoyed. Arys rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But you’re explaining this to Baratheon.” He looked at the red and white sheet. “Gods I hope this was a suicide. There will be shit if a rich lady was murdered in her own house.”

“We treat every murder the same.”

“Bullshit. A prostitute was killed recently in a brutal way and all people did was ignore it and leave the body to some cousin of hers who didn’t have the money to pay for a funeral so she sold her body to the medical school.”

“I thought she fell from the stairs?”

“She had a fucking bullet in her head, Tyrell.” Arys almost spat out Garland’s last name. “Why aren’t you even here if you can’t help people?”

“Shut the fuck up with that class bullshit at me, Oakheart.”

“We both know it’s real.” Arys took a photograph of the open window upstairs. “Tyrell, Lannister, Stark, Targaryen, Martell, Tully, Greyjoy, Baratheon… All big names, with a lot of smoke around them.”

“I didn’t chose to be born with my last name. I had a strict childhood, whatever you think. Me and Willas, at least. Willas is now working for our father as he’s retiring next year. I chose to be a detective to alienate myself from the money and the businesses. And it’s not like that any more.”

“Oh really? Isn’t your sister married to a Stark?”

“She is. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“A fact of life. You marry within your class.”

“Why are you so bitter suddenly? Some rich girl broke your heart?”

“I… No, why would you think that?”

“So something did happen. Interesting.”

“Very well. I was at this place and I met this stunning gal. All curvy, with dark hair and eyes, as gorgeous as the sun. She was stone cold. I kissed her and she didn’t even blink. Later I found out her name is Arianne Martell. One of those.”

“Arianne… My father has been trying to get Doran Martell to agree to a marriage between Arianne and Willas… Seven hells!”

“See? My point. People stay in those circles.”

“You’re just hurt that Arianne Martell popped your bubble heart.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“She ran you over and didn’t even look back.”

“Shut it.”

Stannis was consulting Ned, who was comforting a heartbroken Catelyn. She asked for the note, so Stannis obliged and gave it to her. Reading it, Catelyn sobbed and sobbed.

“Where is my little nephew?” She asked, wiping her tears.

“He is upstairs, with his stepfather.”

“Let’s go Ned. Robyn needs me.”

As they were quietly walking upstairs, Cat turned to Ned, shaking her head.

“Lysa was murdered.”

“What? Why would you believe that?”

“The moment she’d find out she’s expecting she’d call me to let me know. She’d let everyone know.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I don’t want to point any fingers, but we are both aware who the most likely perpetrator is.”

 

Lyanna stirred in the bed, hearing the creaking of the rarely used old bed. She felt a body pressed against her back, the memories from last night swarming over her. She got up immediately and raced to the bathroom upstairs, filling the tub with ice cold water. It was 4 AM and the sound of the engine in front of the house woke her up. Who knows who else is sinning in this ungodly hour?

Slipping into the cold marble tub, she started to cry. What the hell was she thinking? He is married. And has children. And is her junior. She felt like the worst human being on the planet, a homewrecker. And why did Lyanna Stark allow herself to stoop that low?

Was her loneliness more worth that a happy marriage and a small family? Was she so unaffected by the reality of things that she forgot about decency and her own humanity?

She didn’t personally know Elia Martell. To Lyanna, she was a shadowy personality, her face vague and unfamiliar, somewhat distant. And what now? Now she was the woman who ruined her marriage. She recalled Rhaegar’s two children, toddlers possibly. What was there to say? How could she ever face them? When she thought tears wouldn’t stop, the door creaked open, Rhaegar’s blushing face peeking at her. Seeing her tears, he crouched toward the tub and wiped her tears, but she moved away.

“Do you realise what I have done? I ruined your life!”

“You didn’t. I wanted you. I still want you. You opened my eyes, Lyanna Stark.”

“Shut up! Do you realise what will happen if this gets out? Your poor wife...”

“She made up her mind about me a long time ago.”

“That is no excuse!” She shouted. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to drown him. “She is your wife, mother to your children!”

“You’re right. But I don’t love her at all.”

“I don’t care about your feelings for her. What matters is that you made a promise. And I… I helped you break that promise and I am ashamed.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed about how you feel, Lyanna. You are so… alive. Everyone else makes me feel numb. But you, you gave me back my heartbeat.”

“Shut your mouth and leave me alone. Now.”

Sucking up his tears, Rhaegar responded. “If that is what you want.”

Soon, she heard his car and he left Winterfell. Lyanna slipped deeper into the tub, bawling her eyes out.

A few hours later, she got dressed and went to the kitchen to attempt to eat something, only to see Arya and Jon there. She blinked, as if it was a dream, especially when both of them enthusiastically shouted her name.

She snapped out of her trance and observed them. Arya was clad casually, pants and everything, while Jon was dressed to head to work. They gestured her to sit down and she took her place quietly, observing the siblings.

“Aunt Lyanna, I wanted to come here to invite you to a cocktail party at my house but… In light what happened, I probably should push it back.”

“What happened?” Asked Lyanna, somewhere between sleep and death.

“You don’t know?” Said Arya, looking down in her mug. “Aunt Lysa committed suicide last night.”

“Oh Gods… Is she… Why?”

“Apparently she had been depressed for a while.” Answered Jon.

“My goodness… And what now?”

“She’s going to be buried next to her husband next week, when the coroner releases the body. Mum is devastated. Uncle Edmure… A little less but that’s understandable. No one even liked her.”

Jon smacked his forehead and Lyanna shook her head.

“Arya. She was your aunt.”

“She called me “Devil child” and “the missing boy”. She was nothing but mean and spiteful to me. I’m not mourning someone not worth mourning.”

“Fair enough.” Said Jon, extending his arm for a hug.

“Can I stay over at your and Dany’s tonight? I really need some rest.”

“Always. Dany loves you over there. Not sure about the cats, but they’ll get used to you.”

“They only love Dany.”

“There is some truth to that. Pack your bags and I’ll pick you up tonight, is that alright?”

She nodded quietly.

“Has anyone notified Sansa?”

“Oh Seven hells! No!” Shouted Jon.

“I’ll go over there when I get dressed to tell Sansa.” Responded Lyanna. “Poor Cat must be distressed that she completely forgot.”

“I just don’t understand why she is mourning her so much. She is her sister, yes, but she was a horrible person.”

“Before Cat even met your dad, her mother, the late Minisa Whent, passed away giving birth to your Uncle Edmure. Cat was like a second mother to both of them. The pain she must feel now… I can’t even imagine.”

“No one ever told me that.”

“Cat is the only one of her siblings that remembers their mother. It’s quite a sad story.”

“I can only imagine.”

Later in the afternoon, Lyanna arrived at Casterly Rock, where Sansa was seated on a large picnic blanket, under a bright red parasol. Her little boy was sleeping on it on his stomach, Lady laying next to him. Perhaps, on some other days, the sight of them would warm her heart. Sansa put her book down, waving to Lyanna. As she noticed Lyanna’s sombre face, she knew, something terrible happened.

“Aunt Lyanna?” Whispered Sansa, her words carried away by the wind. After Lyanna broke the news, Sansa cried a little. Like Arya, she wasn’t really fond of the deceased, but nevertheless, she was family. But Sansa had her suspicions. There was a possibility that the sad widower had done something regarding this. 

She asked Lyanna to watch Jason and walked to the porch where Jaime and Oberyn were sipping some coffee and discussing their businesses. Seeing Sansa’s pale visage, Jaime rose.

“Sansa, what’s wrong?”

“Aunt Lysa is dead.”

“What?”

“Suicide. She jumped from a high window.”

“Seven hells… I’m so sorry, come.” He wrapped her arms around her, comforting her, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

“I have to tell you something. Both of you.”

Jaime led her to the straw chair and instructed her to sit down.

“Yesterday… I was out with Lady and Littlefinger asked me to take a seat next to him, he was at the Castamere cafe. And then, this man joined us. He… His name is Ramsay. He looks inhumane. I can’t explain it to you. I left soon, but I was very uncomfortable… It was disgusting.”

“Can you describe to me what that “Ramsay” looked like?”

“Dark hair, blue eyes, wide face… A little rough around the edges. But looks inhumane.”

“Fucking hell. That monster exposed you to an even bigger monster.”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s time to tell you something.”

They told her everything. About the brothel, about the dead prostitutes, about Euron Greyjoy…

“And that man, Ramsay Bolton… He is Euron’s best lapdog. He is known as “The Flayer”. He skins people for sport.”

Sansa sat there, quietly.

“He deserves to die.”

“Of course he does. I can’t believe he put you in that kind of danger.” Jaime knelt to her. “Listen, for your own good, please stay inside for a few weeks.” Sansa nodded quietly and leaned on to Jaime while Oberyn excused himself to see Lyanna Stark.

She was on the blanket, little Jason on her lap, she was singing something to him and he was laughing.

“Hello, Miss Stark.”

Lyanna turned around, anxiety coating her face.

“Why so formal?”

“I’m just teasing you.”

She looked like a deer in headlights. She handed Jason to Oberyn and told him to bring him to his parents and she walked away from the Lannister estate.

 

It’s been a month since the burial of Lysa Arryn, nee Tully. The reaction to her death wore off, and people returned to their normal lives. At least they tried. First up were Jon and Dany, who planned a house warming party for a while. Today, they were visiting Aemon.

As they entered the pharmacy, they saw Samwell Tarly fidgeting and walking paces up the room. Jon asked him what is wrong, and Sam explained that he wants to ask Maester Aemon to buy the pharmacy from him. Jon tapped his back for good luck and they young couple waited for the news. For what felt like hours, they elderly Targaryen and Sam came out, with Sam clearly confused.

“Poor Sam wanted to buy the pharmacy from me, little did he know was that I wrote him in my Will as the heir. Oh dear Samwell, we don’t deserve you.”

“I’m very much surprised...” He said. “I’ve been saving all my money for this… It’s nice to have some savings now.”

“Very true, good boy. How is Gilly?”

“She’s well. I thought about marrying her. She’s been lonely lately, since she kicked out her cousin.”

“Congratulations, Sam.” Smiled Dany, giving him a hug. “If anyone deserves to run this place, it’s you.”

“That means that you’re leaving the bar?!” Asked Jon.

“Yes, I have to, Gendry is leaving too to focus on his studies.”

“So who is going to bartend now?”

“I have no idea. The bosses will figure something out. They always do.”

“True.”

“When are you proposing to Gilly?” Asked Dany.

“Next week probably. You two better show up to the wedding.”

Dany turned to Aemon.

“I hope you want to move in back with the family on Dragonstone. They miss you very much.”

“I think it’s time. I’m an old man, Dany. When my time comes, I want to be surrounded by family.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Everyone’s time comes, Dany. We both know it. Your father certainly does.”

“So you’re ending the feud?”

“Of course.”

Jon asked Sam about his family, the other man’s face turning sad.

“The usual, to be honest. Father is angry about me leaving the family business, but shoe making isn’t for me, really. And he has Dickon, it’s not like he’s alone. I went to school for this, it’s been my dream since I was a boy.”  
“We’re both happy that you’re living it.” Said Jon.

“Of course, you and Gilly can move in the flat upstairs. It needs repainting probably, but you’ll two manage.”

Sam nodded. Maester Aemon shook his hand, giving him a big grin.

“It’s due for the new generation to take over.”

“How so?” Asked Jon.

“Do you even remember the time before the prohibition? Why it started? Around 20 years ago, maybe even more, an alcohol merchant started selling bottles with half liquor and half who knows what. People got sick quickly. But, unfortunately, it was cheaper for him and he made double the money. Many followed him and people started getting poisoned. Soon, the loss was grand, the government stepped in. Soon, the prohibition came, we all had to drink fruit juices in public. What happened behind closed doors, who knows. And then came the mob, dealing booze. Some of them were decent, others… less. The old generation cannot tackle this issue. We need fresh, new people to redo old mistakes.”

“Uncle Aemon… Who was the merchant?”

“Quellon Greyjoy. Father to Balon, Euron, the late Victarion and that priest.”

“What priest?”

“Aeron. The Septon? The man who married you two?”

“Seven hells...” Said Dany.

“Quellon was a monster. He killed more people than his son. And what he did to his boys… Some stories better remain stories, for they could be cause to things our small minds cannot event grasp.”

 

Rhaegar fixed his striped red and black tie. Today, Dany was hosting a small cocktail party in honour of her new home so everyone was invited. All that was on Rhaegar’s mind was Lyanna Stark. He hadn’t seen her for a month. He missed her greatly, but the weight of that they did fell upon his shoulder whenever he gazed at Elia and their children.

Tonight, Elia wore a simple red dress, with a matching necklace and earrings. She rarely wore red, which surprised Rhaegar. Elia was mostly neutral and quiet. She looked him up and down and few times.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure. You’re always gone, but recently even more so. What happened? Is your book failing?”

“No, of course not. Let’s go.”

The drive to the house with the red door was quiet. After arriving, Rhaegar noticed it was filled with familiar friends and enemies, his parents, some in laws, some relatives… Just the same. He saw his father engage in a conversation with Mr Selmy, Mrs Selmy next to him. On the other side, for some reason, Mrs Stark was giving Mrs Selmy a cold, calculated look, but he brushed it off. The young Mr and Mrs Stark were laughing with Jon and Dany, while Mrs Lannister was attempting to strike a conversation with her sister-in-law. Oberyn Martell was seated by the piano, playing some funny song, earning laughs from Jon’s sister and Robert’s son. Doran was there too, in conversation with Tywin Lannister and the elderly Olenna Tyrell. Arthur Dayne barged in, as late as always, talking about his new position in the police force.

Just a usual night. And then he spotted a pair of dark eyes watching Oberyn Martell play the piano. His breath hitched. Lyanna was clad all in soft, icy blue, hair up, neck revealed. He could almost feel it under his fingers. The moment she locked eyes with him she turned on her heel and escaped.

Dany walked over, clad in a black, sparkling, long sleeved, V neck dress, with a long, golden pendant hanging between her breast. She hugged them both and offered them some drinks.

As the night went on, Jon signalled to Dany that is was time to conduct the grand plan, the only reason they made this party. To get both of Jon’s parents in a room with him and make them talk. Daenerys was up first. She hugged Ashara, leading her to the piano where Oberyn was still playing.

“It’s been ages, Mrs Selmy.”

“Indeed. I haven’t seen your gorgeous face in such a long time, darling. How is married life?”

“Excellent! Will you be a darling and help me with the cake? I need your opinion on it, I think the bakery messed my order up.”

“Of course!” She laced their arms together and Dany led her upstairs. Jon, on the other hand, grabbed Ned and told him about the newly redecorated privy that Ned just needed to see. Clearly confused, Ned turned around only to see Ashara Dayne and Daenerys in the other corner, with Daenerys locking the one door, and Jon the other. Four chairs were placed in the middle of the room. This had been clearly planned, and Jon… He knew the truth. He turned to his parents.

“Do sit down. I have a lot of questions.”

Rhaegar was attempting to find his sister, in order to excuse himself and leave, but she was nowhere to be seen. And then he stumbled upon a dark hallway, where Lyanna Stark was wiping her tears away.

“Lyanna?” He whispered quietly, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“What do you want?” Hissed the she-wolf, ready to attack. “As if you haven’t done enough?”

He walked over, grabbing her hands.

“I’ve missed you, Lyanna Stark.”

She started breathing heavily.

“Have you missed me to?”

“No.” She lied.

“You aren’t a good liar, you eyebrows raise. Although, you look quite stunning tonight.”

She watched him, eyes attempting to read his face, but it was impossible. He came closer to her, their noses almost touching. Both breathing fast now, Rhaegar covered her waist with his arms.

“What now, Lyanna?”

“Nothing.” She whispered. “We forget and move on.”

“But we can’t, can we?”

They stayed like that in silence, Lyanna’s dainty hands on his chest, feeling his loud heartbeat.

“I want you.” He breathed. “Do you want me?”

Before she was able to answer, they heard a rustling in the dark hallway. Rhaegar immediately let her got and peeked out to see who it was. He only saw a slim silhouette disappear.

“Did they… You fucking, idiot! You wretched fool!”

“Quiet of they might come back! And I doubt it. It’s dark enough here to confuse us for someone else.”

“That’s the prize of cheating, Rhaegar. Hiding.”

“Let’s then stop hiding then. I’ll divorce my wife. And marry you.”

She slapped him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I want you! Only you! Lyanna… how can you be so blind! I only love you!”

“How can you say that!”

“Please. I’m begging you.”

He knelt in front of her, taking her hand. “Please.” Then, he got up, and took her hand.

“Let us talk it out. Please.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

They stood there in the quiet, until Lyanna felt that disgusting, animalistic, magnetic pull to him. She wanted to step away, but the look in his eyes forced her to stay. Guilt wrecking her, she opened the door and quickly slipped inside, sliding down. Rhaegar started knocking, pleading her to open it. She creaked to open, to tell him to go away, but he entered anyway.

“Lyanna.”

“You want what? We both know you can’t divorce her due your business deals, and we both know if that were to occur I’d never say yes. And I shall never become your mistress.”

“And what can you be then?”

“Nothing. What I was.”

“You’re not nothing to me. You’re my dream.”

“Will you shut up!” She walked a pace around the room. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like a madman!”

Before she was able to finish that sentence, he kissed her. She slapped him, again. Then they kissed, again.


	25. The Bold and The Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update: I am flooded with uni work and studying etc so my updating will be sparse. Thank you for reading, if you need me on tumblr I'm jonerysbitch there too and sorry for updating so rarely!

“Brandon! Open the door!” Shouted Rickard Stark. It was nearly 11 in the morning and the heir apparent to his legacy was still sleeping. He heard a laugh behind him and spotted Jon Arryn and Ned looking at him.

“Leave him, Dad. He’s probably hungover.”

“I’m not having it!” He knocked again. “Brandon, open up!” Jon Arryn shook his head.

“Excuse me for being rude, Jon. It’s just that need to wake this lazy bastard up.”

“Leave the boy be, Rick. Why are you even waking him up? It’s not a working day.”

“He has some exciting news.”

“Oh?” Asked Ned, clearly confused.

“He is getting engaged to Miss Catelyn Tully.”

“Our Cat?” Asked Ned. “What the hell?”

“Hoster and I arranged it. It’s about time for him to settle down, marry and stop acting like an entitled, spoiled, brat! Brandon! Open up!”

The door next to Brandon’s creaked and Lyanna Stark emerged, dressed in a white robe. She rubbed her eyes.

“Dad. Ned. Mr Arryn.”

“Lyanna.” Said Rickard.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Attempting to wake Brandon.”

“Why?”

“To tell him he’s getting married.” Said Ned, exchanging concerned looks with Lyanna. She licked her lips and walked over, moving their father. She creaked Brandon’s door, revealing an empty bedroom and a wide open window, curtains flowing in the wind.

“Well…I think you need to look somewhere else.”

Rickard cursed under his breath and gestured to Jon Arryn to follow him. Lyanna pulled Ned into the room.

“We’re fucked.”

“I’ll call Asha. Perhaps he’s with Arthur.”

“We both know where he is.”

“Yes… Seven Hells. What now?”

“Dad got him engaged to Cat.”

“I’m dying to see that marriage.”

They both knew the truth. What looked good on paper would never succeed in reality. Brandon was wild, impossible to tame, Cat was gentle and soft. He’d break her heart and leave her behind in the dust. Just like Lyanna, Brandon was wilful and never did as he was told. Lyanna hated stuffiness and norms, but Brandon despised any kind of obligations. Like what recently happened with Lyanna and Robert was a disaster. 

“Just because you’re in love doesn’t mean you get to shit on us who aren’t.”

“I’m just kidding… Listen. Do you think that since Dad is getting Brandon to marry for business, he won’t let me marry Asha?”

“I can’t tell you.” She untied her robe, revealing a party dress from last night.”Let’s go. We need to find Brandon.”

“I’ll drive.”

“I guess… I still feel like shit.”

“You should probably change. Father will suspect if you’re wearing something like that.”

“I’m too lazy, to be honest.”

She pulled out a white button up shirt and tied it over the dress with a pair of sunglasses and a large, straw hat.

And where in the world was Brandon? The young man was hiding under a tree, playing with a lock of stray, silvery hair. Gentle and kind Daena was seated across him, her small hand clutching his own.

“And then I’ll ask your father to marry you.”

“Don’t be silly. You know he’ll never allow it. He is a cold man, that father of mine.”

“I love you. And that is all that matters. He’ll get around eventually. And so will mine. He has to.”

“And what then?”

“Then I’ll get on a knee, my darling.”

Daena wasn’t sure if she’d say yes.

“Do you say that to every girl, Brandon Stark?”

“What?”

“That you’ll marry them, just so you can get under their skirts?”

“Just to you.” He kissed her small hand and got up, dusting his suit. “Follow me.”

There was a red and white picnic blanket splayed on the forest floor. Brandon took off his jacket and gestured Daena to sit down.

They sat like that in silence, until Brandon leaned over and placed a small, chaste kiss on her lips. And then the kisses got more heated, until he was on top of her, getting ready to undress her. He was toying with the upper buttons on her shirt, when they heard a rustling in the bushes. They both jumped up, looking upon the face of Aerys Targaryen.

His stone cold face hid a storm underneath, jaw clenched.

“I advise you to leave now, Stark. Your father is in my house, asking for you. I’ll pretend nothing of this happened, and let you go home now. And you, Daena, we’ll talk later.”

“How are you to think you have the right to tell us what to do?”

“Someone who doesn’t want you shunned out. You wouldn’t make it in the real world alone, just look at you. Leave, Stark. For your own good.”

Before there was space for a heated argument, Daena split the fight and went back with her brother, who kept scolding her about Brandon and his womanising reputation.

On the other hand, Brandon dragged himself home, went upstairs, checked on Benjen buried in a pile of homework, and sat down and made himself a drink. There was fumbling downstairs suddenly, as if someone arrived. He recognised his father and some other men, so he peeked and saw Cat Tully, her father and their nasty lapdog Littlefinger.

Rolling his eyes, he leaned back on the bed and binged on some vodka and lemon, waiting to be summoned. Actually, he was praying that his father wasn’t aware that he’s back.

A sharp knock on the door changed his mind. Rickard entered, a small box in his hand.

“Get up. You have something to do.”

“What now?” He got up, still half dressed.

“Tidy yourself up. You’re proposing to Miss Tully.”

“To who?”

“Miss Catelyn Tully. She’s your bride to be. Get ready.”

“No.”

“Your wedding is in three months. I can’t have it with you and your behaviour. You need to become serious.”

“No. I refuse.”

“You have nothing to refuse. The wedding has been already been organised, you two shall wed in a smaller ceremony in three months. I don’t have time for negotiations.”

“Neither do I.”

Now dressed, Brandon walked past his father and went through the back door, starting the engine and drove off the Winterfell property, leaving a yelling father behind him.

 

Back in the Dayne residence, Ashara was lying abed, very sick and pale, tended by her brother. Arthur wiped her forehead, her face as white as the sheets.

“Why are you so opposed to a doctor?”

“It’s expensive.”

“You’re sick, therefore you need tending and help. Come, I’ll call a doctor.”

“Arthur, no...”

“Are you afraid he’d tell you something you don’t want to hear?”

“Like what?”

“You tell me.”

Arthur had been having certain suspicions lately. Ashara was becoming moody and sleepy, always sick and tired, she puked a lot and certain smells made her queasy. As much as he hated to believe that clumsy Ned Stark had gotten her pregnant, Arthur was a realistic man, he knew, the truth had to be accepted, as bad as it was.

She was unmarried, but knowing Ned, he’d step up and marry her, they’d raise a happy family. And as penniless as the Dayne family is now, there would be no dowry, but it did not matter to Ned.

Arthur hopped the wedding would be a quick and small affair, as they had nine months at best if his suspicions were true.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Before Arthur was able to respond, their mother rushed into the room. Her face was covered in tears, hands shaking as she grabbed onto Arthur.

“Arthur! Ashara! Get up! Rickard’s boy… The eldest! He’s...”

“Mother, what happened?”

“He died! Crashed his car in a tree!”

They rushed to the Stark residence, people already gathering. Ashara noticed Cat Tully was certainly overdressed, in a deep maroon dress made out of raw silk, which made her appear as if she was waiting for something else. She was quietly wiping the tears on her cheeks, clutching the hand of Lyanna Stark, who was crying her eyes out. Her Ned was holding little Benjen, who was shaking against his brother.

Rickard’s solemn and cold face was now marred by tears, yet he had to remain stoic and shake people’s hands and thank them for their condolences.

The last one to arrive was Stannis Baratheon, who had to break the news that the brakes failed and Brandon couldn’t stop.

In the end, death came for his youth. Brandon’s funeral was a quiet, small and private affair, the Stark family requested that not too many people attend it.

Two days after the funeral, Rickard had to break some news to Ned.

“As you know, I made an agreement with Hoster Tully to marry Catelyn and Brandon… But, since he is gone, I think it would be disrespectful not to honour that pledge. The contracts are all signed, and come three months, you and Catelyn shall marry.”

Ned was quiet, taught to oblige and listen. He did as he was told. But first, he had to break it off with Ashara, which was painful as it is. Ashara’s teary eyes and sad face confirmed his worst fears. He’d never see her again. Or so he had thought.

The wedding, like the funeral, wasn’t a big affair either. Newly engaged Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon attended too. Out of respect for the late Brandon, Ned wore a black band around his arm. Ashara attended too, she did look slightly different.

At the reception, Ned was shaking people’s hands and thanking them for coming, as he finally encountered Ashara. She looked as beautiful as usual, but his face changed when her loose dress creased and revealed a small bump.

Ashara had always been thin, such a change just couldn’t remain unnoticed. Ned pulled her to the side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Ashara…”

“You were engaged, Ned. Your father would have never accepted me. My family is just beginning to recover from bankruptcy. And the Tully’s are stashed.”

“Ashara, fuck money! You’re having my child!””

“I’ll have the baby and give it up for adoption or something.”

“That is out of the question. I’ll raise it.”

“As what? As your bastard?”

“If that is what it takes, yes.”

“What now?”

“When it’s time for you to have it, I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

Months passed, and in small house in Dorne, Lyanna Stark and a nurse delivered a small, dark haired boy. He was healthy and strong, What concerned Lyanna was the mother who was cold and distant, as if she wanted nothing to do with it.

The truth was far worse. Ashara was all alone, her family in shambles. Motherhood was never meant for her, and yet there she was, watching a crying baby in Lyanna Stark’s arms. All she felt was this scary, unforgiving emptiness in her already hollow chest.

Lyanna looked almost hypnotized by the small boy in her hands. He was shaking and crying, so the young woman tried to calm hm down.

“What are we naming him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ned mentioned he liked Jon. I happen to love Jon too.”

“That is such a mundane name.”

“And since Ned picked his first name, you get to choose the second one.”

“Arthur. For my brother.”

“Jon Arthur Stark. Very powerful!”

“Oh, his last name will be Stark?”

“Why of course! He is one, through and through! He reminds me of my father...”

“How lovely...” She said, coldness washing over her.

“I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”

“Of course.”

“You can visit him whenever you want. I’ll find a way.”

What Ashara wanted to say was thank you. What she did was roll over and fall asleep.

And that happened a long time ago. Most of them are dead now. Rickard Stark died a year after of a sudden heart attack, Brandon still lays in his grave, and there was a feeling that many would follow. Especially when the prohibition was placed.

Now, children born at the time were confronting their parents.

“And that is all you have to say to me?” Asked Jon, staring for the first time forever to his both parents.

“What happened, happened. And one cannot erase the past.” Said Ned. “But that does not mean you were never loved less.”

“Not really what I thought. But thank you for telling me the truth. I needed to hear it eventually.”

“Of course.” Smiled Ashara.

“Jon has been told terrible, vile things about his mother. This feels almost cathartic.” Smiled Dany, holding Jon’s hand.

“I imagine it must be.”

Downstairs, pressed against a door, Arya was trying to collect herself. She just witnessed her aunt engage in an affair with a married man. Jon’s brother-in-law. Shaking, she opened a cabinet in the kitchen she was hiding in and found some sweets. She cracked open a can of jelly beans and nibbled on them.

What now? Was she to confront Lyanna or Rhaegar? What of Elia Martell and the children? What of her now?

She slid down the door and continued chewing on the treat. She could always ask Gendry for help. No one else can now. Jon and Dany would lose their minds, Mum and Dad wouldn’t know what to do and her siblings weren’t really competent. Robb and Sansa perhaps, but she didn’t want to bother fresh parents.

This was an issue she wasn’t ready to face. Arya put down the sweets and went to search for Sansa, who was engaged in conversation with their mother and her husband. Then she saw Gendry next to Oberyn Martell by the piano. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“I need to ask you something.”

When they were on the balcony, she told him what she saw. Rhaegar was all over her aunt, and they walked into a room. Gendry looked appalled, trying to find the right words. Was it that difficult for that family not to have affairs?

“We need to tell Jon and Daenerys. They’ll know what to do.”

“Hey Jon! Aunt Lyanna is sleeping with Dany’s big brother!”

“Oh, that truly does not work. What is our next step?”

“To stay calm and think this through. I have to confront her. This cannot stay hidden.”

“If this gets out… She’ll be ruined forever. Rhaegar won’t even feel it, but she certainly will.”

“Seven hells… Can we have one normal year?”

“Certainly not.”

The window creaked open and Arthur Dayne peeked his head through. He gave them a big grin.

“What are you two lovebirds doing here?”

“Just chatting.” Answered Arya. “And we’re not lovebirds.”

“Sure, Miss Stark! Speaking of Miss Stark, have you seen your fabulous aunt? I need to ask her something.”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Then have you seen my sister?”

“Your sister?” Asked Gendry.

“Ashara Selmy is the sister, Gendry. I think she went upstairs with Dany to find some cake.”

“Very well.”

Arthur left them and pranced upstairs, only to be met by a sight he never thought he’d see. Ned, Ashara and their son. Jon looked like a Stark, but Arthur couldn’t help but notice that he had Ashara’s hair and smile.

“I see that I’m interrupting something.”

“Oh no, it’s alright!” Said Jon, offering a hand. “Uncle Arthur, I suppose.”

“Nephew Jon.”

Ashara wiped a little tear. It felt like all her worries and pains were to be taken away.

On the other hand, Lyanna just pushed Rhaegar away, hands shaking from what happened. She felt dirty all over again, although just a kiss was exchanged.

“We need to leave. This must never happen again.”

She felt her misery grow more and more.

“Lyanna… We need to stop lying to ourselves.”

“You are married, for fuck’s sake!”

“I can get a divorce!”

“You won’t! I shall not be your mistress! One mistake does not define me! Leave, now.”

Rhaegar left, slamming the door. Lyanna flinched a little, but almost didn’t notice it. She cannot even win a battle with herself.

The three holy cats, Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal were splayed on a settee in the hallway. Arya reached to pet Drogon, but the large black cat hissed and rolled around.

“Gendry, can you make me a drink?”

“And risk you getting drink and Mr Stark shaving my head? No, not really. Arya, drinking isn’t the solution. You need to talk it out with Lyanna.”

“You are the one to talk. Your entire family is like a doll house.”

Gendry tried to say something, but looked dumbfounded.

“Sorry, didn’t mean like that.”

“No, you’re right. It’s okay, I know, my mother is a stone cold bitch, my father a cheating bastard and my brother is dead. I know. A fucking mess, and we never discuss it or mourn our shitty situation. I mean, we’re rich and shit but we are fucked up.”

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

“I’m so, so, sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Wrote this stoned


	26. Secrets He'd Like to Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back in the house

Gendry opened the bedroom door, a familiar stench washing over him. It smelled like really cheap wine, the dark figure on the bed was quietly sobbing. She looked like a ruin. Her face pale, covered in tears. Her breath was shaky as she turned to him. 

“Gendry, is that you?”

“Yes, Mum, it is. I need you to wake up, please. Myrcella and Tommen have been asking for you. They miss their mother.”

Cersei inhaled deeply, raising herself from the bed. Her long, blonde hair, once her mane and crown, was a tangled mess. Gendry recalled always seeing his mother as nothing but pristine. Her glossy exterior made men smile and women frown with envy once. Now, she was a ruin.

“Mum, I’ll wait for you to take a bath and then, please, if you can, come down to see the children. They need you.”

Gendry walked out of the room slowly, closing the door behind him. He exhaled now, tears welling up in his eyes. This was far too much for him. The two tiny golden heads in the dinning room made him sober up quickly and he opened his arms to hug them. 

“Is Mummy coming?” Asked the young girl.

“She is...”

A loud knock at the door interrupted the familiar moment. Gendry heard the maid open the door, and the deep voice of his grandfather echoed in the drawing room. 

“Cersei?”

Tywin Lannister’s commanding presence filled the room. He scanned it quickly, immediately noticing the new lack of discipline in his grandchildren, Gendry’s tired eyes, Myrcella and Tommen’s worn out faces and per usual, Robert’s absence. Without moving a muscle in his face, or displaying any kind of emotion, he moved along and placed himself in the large chair by the fireplace. The two small children remained at Gendry’s side, without uttering a word.

“Where is your mother?”

“Upstairs, finishing something up. She’ll be here soon.” Answered Gendry.

Tywin saw through his words immediately.

“Very well. Children, will you be kind and leave? I have something important to talk about with your brother.”

The two golden-haired angels left the room leaving the elderly man and their favourite brother alone.

“What is going on with Cersei? I haven’t spoken to her in ages! She is not responding to my calls, not speaking with Jaime and she hasn’t been seen in public for a while! People started rumours that she is feeble-minded or sick like Joff!”

“She is in mourning, Grandfather. What was wrong with Joff, anyway? He had always been healthy, but he died so suddenly...”

“I don’t know. Some physician claimed it has to do with our bloodlines, but never in both our families had anyone been afflicted with that. What if it hits you? Or Jason?”

“I don’t know anything about illnesses, Grandfather. But I do know that my mother needs help. She has suffered enough.”

“I think I’ll send her off to the mountains for a while. To heal. That’s what she needs.”

“But what of Tommen and Myrcella?”

“I’ll hire a nanny. Don’t they already have one?”

“They do, but...”

“I’ll hire a second one. When Cersei comes down, I’ll tell her. Oh, there are some other news, too.”

“And that is?”

“I’ll tell you too when she’s here.”

 

“Fucking hell!” Shouted Jaime as Jason escaped his grasp again. He was running around the house naked after bath time cackling at his father’s inability to catch him. The little boy raced around the old furniture before crashing a table and breaking some old vase. 

“Get back in here, before you break something again!”

He just laughed and raced back, slipping through Jaime’s legs. He was caught by his mother, who laughed behind Jaime.

“He is a bit of a rowdy fellow, isn’t he?” Smiled Sansa. “What will you do when you’re not the only one, huh, Jason?”

Jason gave his mother a big, toothy grin and earned a big kiss on the cheek. Sansa was in the earliest stages of pregnancy now. Unlike the first, this one was planned and expected. She wanted to invite her family to dinner to tell them, but since Arya wasn’t home, she wanted to wait. Jaime slipped Jason’s pyjama on and let him race again around the house. 

“We’ll need a nanny once you’re pregnant. I don’t want you running around with a few pounds strapped on your belly.”

Sansa nodded.

“I wish I could hire Old Nan. She used to watch us when we were children.”

“Is she gone?”

“She is… She died in the middle of winter, around Bran’s birthday. He was so sad after her death. She used to gather us around the fireplace and tell us stories. Our favourite ones were about Uncle Brandon.”

“Oh, I met him once! One of the most charismatic people I’ve ever met.”

“Really?”

“He had an excellent sense of humour. A wonderful man.” 

Sansa smiled sadly.

“I wish I’ve met him.”

“The dead live in us, Sansa.”

“Except for Joff.”

“Except for Joff.”

They both laughed and Jaime poked her belly.

“And we need to celebrate our new dot.”

“Yes! I do hope it will be a girl.”

“We’ll see.”

“That looks disgusting.”

“You have no guts for a CSI, Oakheart.” Muttered Garland, watching the bloody spatters. The corpse looked like minced meat. Another victim of Bolton, perhaps?"

“I researched his family history. His father and brother died under mysterious circumstances.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Fucking hell damn straight.”

“And what about his mother?”

“Unknown. His parents weren’t married I think.”

“Lovely. Do you think he has mummy issues too?”

He watched the decaying body on the pavement.

“Yes. Whoever this poor unfortunate fool was, he felt all of Bolton’s wrath.”

“And what does that tell us?”

“That he’s… Angry?”

“And why is that?”

“Euron may be unhappy with his work?”

“Exactly! There must be something going on in the underworld that we are not aware of.”

“And where do we go when we need underworld news?”

“To the bar!”

“Damn straight.”

The police commissioner stood a few meters away from the pile, covering his mouth with a tissue. 

“What in the world...”

“Guess.”

“It does look like his work.”

“I’d say the corpse has dog bites all over it.”

“Lads, I’m here to tell you we have a new captain in the house, Captain Arthur Dayne will be joining us soon.”

“Dayne? Like those Daynes?” Asked Garland. “My brother is engaged to his sister.”

“I am not aware what that means, as it is not my concern. Finish your work.” Stannis left the crime scene.

As night fell, the two officers changed into dapper suits and entered the magical basement underworld of the basement-bar. The bar was clad in the crème of crème of society, all clad in their finery, with loud music filling the halls. And then there was a suspiciously large woman. But then they just realised it was Loras Tyrell dressed in drag. Loras was telling jokes on the stage and obviously hosting tonight’s entertainment. 

“And then she died!” Said Loras, earning a laugh from the crowd.

Arys noticed Daenerys Targaryen nicely wrapped up with that husband of hers, her head on his shoulder. They looked like one of those adorable, story book couples, one of those that would make lonely hearts sick, people around the roll their eyes with their love…  
He snapped out of his trance when he noticed Arianne walking past with a glass of champagne. He wanted to follow her but Garland snapped him out of his trance.

“Is that your brother up there?”

“Yes.”

“He looks lovely.”

They pranced around the bar, seeing Jaime Lannister laughing and toasting the guests.

“To my future unborn child!”

“To baby Lannister!” responded the crowd.

“Sansa Lannister is pregnant?” Said Garland, confused.

“Yeah, I guess… Ah, there is Bronn! Just the suspicious cunt we need!” Responded Arys.

Bronn turned around.

“And what do you two fuckers want?”

“Information.”

“If it is about those whores...”

“No! About Euron. And his lapdog.”

“What with them?”

“Euron is pissy with the dog.” Elaborated Arys.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Euron is losing half of his buyers.”

“How so?”

“The Dragon. Just wiping the competition.”

“Oh… Interesting. And who is he?”

“I don’t know. Never seen him. But the Dragon put Euron’s business to shame.”

“I imagine… And how so?” Asked Garland.

“Better prices and high quality liquor. A jackpot, if you ask me.”

“And what of the Dragon?” Poked Arys again.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Daenerys Targaryen walked around with an arm around her waist, laughing. She approached Bronn. 

“Why so sombre, lads? We’re celebrating!”

Arys was sometimes amazed how beautiful some things were. She looked like she was made out of light. Jon wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck, and she just giggled. 

“We’re celebrating a new life to be!” Laughed Dany. “Our future nephew or niece!”

“By the looks of the two of you, you’ll be having one of your own soon...” Muttered Arys under his breath.

“Stop being downers and start enjoying the night!”

And so they did.

In the early morning hours, Dany and Jon were splayed on their bed, half-naked, happy and giddy together. She rolled around in their bed and opened her arms and Jon gladly laid down on her chest.

“Fucking hell. I love you.”

“Enjoy it, Stark. Enjoy it.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me you love me too?”

“Okay, I love you too.”

She laughed.

“And what do you like about me, Dany?”

“I like the way you talk… I want men to shut the fuck up most of the time but you can talk.”

“Thank you.”

They both laughed stupidly. 

“You are everything to me, you know that?”

“Yes.”

He turned around, kissing her face. 

“Is it strange to believe you are my perfect match?” She asked.

“No, not at all...”

Before they were able to continue, a loud, sharp knock downstairs interrupted them. More concerned than annoyed, Dany tied her robe and walked downstairs to open the door. Sam stood there, racing around franticly. 

“The illness, it all makes sense, it’s not a flue, it’s not actually hereditary...”

“Sam, calm down! What is going on!”

Sam explained it to them.

“Many years ago, in some mountain villages, some children were born healthy at first, but as they aged, they got ill quickly and perished before they turned 18. Their symptoms included strange white spots, fevers, nosebleeds, fatigue and eventually death. Joffrey had no plague or flu or whatever… He had a hereditary illness. Like, let’s say, porphyria or haemophilia.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Those illnesses are only possible when both parents have it in their bloodlines. And that is more likely if the parents are, let’s say, related.”

“But… If Joff had it, why doesn’t Gendry have it?” Asked Dany, clearly confused.

“Because they don’t have the same fathers. You see, Robert is Gendry’s father. That we know, they look like twins, one that is, is very fat. But what of the other three?”  
“Sam, what are you implying?”

“That Cersei had an affair with a relative and had three children without anyone noticing it because Gendry served as a good cover up and therefore her two living children are in grave danger.”

“Wow, wow, wow… There is only one possible person for that...” Said Jon, chewing his lips.

“And that’s impossible.” Whispered Dany.

“Maybe it is not… We don’t know the full story. The other two will perish soon… There is no cure for this.”

“If you’re right.”

“I know that I am.”

“You think Jaime and Cersei committed incest?” Asked Jon.

“Possibly. Does she have many male relatives?”

“Somewhat, yes.” Said Dany, remembering the family tree. “We should keep this a secret. For now.”

Back home, Lyanna cleaned herself so many times that she was by now basically scraping her skin. She felt raw and painful, her skin was itching from cleaning it. She wanted to die. Sometimes, she wondered, if it was possible to switch places with Brandon in that car.   
She pulled out some jasmine cream and coated her skin, which was still painful. And it was so, so early. She doubted anyone was awake. A sense of shame washed over her. Sobbing, she put on her clothes and walked downstairs to sip on some tea quietly. She had a feeling that she’d been sitting there for hours, because she was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Ned entered the room, followed by a familiar face.

“Ned? Is that Arthur Dayne that I see?”

“You see well, Lyanna! My, my, age has nothing on you!” He took her hand and kissed it, reminding her of old times and making her mourn her sins even more. 

“Arthur wanted to see you, so I took the liberty to interrupt your morning.”

“Nonsense! Do you want some tea or coffee? Do sit down!”

“Actually, I have something to pick up. I will be right back.”

Ned left downstairs and Lyanna and Arthur took their respective seats. Their conversation was pleasant, asking about their lives, families, about Jon… 

“And our Jon is married now!”

“To a girl that makes happy.”

“All that an aunt and uncle can hope for.”

“Among other things, I hope.”

He nodded quietly.

“Lyanna… There is another reason why I’m here. I have been planning to settle down, as I’m police captain now. And with settling down, usually one considers marriage. Now, I don’t expect of you to answer today, or immediately. So, I come here to ask, if you were willing to give me your hand in marriage?”


End file.
